


Grethan Oneshots (After Dark)

by afterhoursgrethan



Series: Grethan Oneshots (AFTER DARK) [1]
Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Adorable, Alpha Grayson Dolan, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Grayson, Character Turned Into Vampire, Crazy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Cute, Demons, Dolan - Freeform, Dom - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Issues, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Funny, Gay Male Character, Grethan, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Historical References, Hot, Hugs, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, Made For Each Other, Making Love, Masochist, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Murder Mystery, Neck Kissing, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Protective Behavior, Protective Siblings, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Scent Marking, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Serial Killers, Sharing Clothes, Spanking, Their Love Is So, Top!Grayson, Twincest, Twins, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Werewolves, Witch Curses, Witches, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, alphas - Freeform, angel - Freeform, bottom!ethan, cursed!Grayson Dolan, grethanisreal, omega Ethan Dolan, oneshots, possessive Ethan Dolan, possessive Grayson Dolan, pregnant Ethan Dolan, serial killer Grayson Dolan, sub, the dolan twins - Freeform, top!Ethan, transformations, vampire slayers!dolan twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 207,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterhoursgrethan/pseuds/afterhoursgrethan
Summary: A collection of Grethan oneshots.
Relationships: Ethan Dolan/Grayson Dolan
Series: Grethan Oneshots (AFTER DARK) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881379
Comments: 48
Kudos: 82





	1. Turn of the Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ethan and Grayson are vampires slayers. A mistake on the job causes chaos to befall the twins.
> 
> A/N: Comments/constructive criticism is much appreciated! I'd love to here from you. Let's start a conversation! ;)

1.

Ethan & Grayson, 22

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson

\---

It's my fault.

Ethan runs down the alley, not even attempting to chase after the woman as she climbs the fence and disappears. The night sucks her up like she was just a figment of Ethan's imagination, but Ethan doesn't notice, and he doesn't question whether or not she was real.

What's real is Grayson, lying on the ground and clutching at his neck, eyes already a little unfocused.

"Gray..." The asphalt probably hurts when his knees hit it, but the pain never makes it to his brain for him to feel it. "Gray, did she?"

"E?" Grayson reaches out, long fingers frantically clutching into Ethan's jacket and pulling him down. Ethan shoves at his hands, trying to look at the bite on Grayson's neck.

"Grayson, I'm right here. Did she bleed into this?"

Grayson shakes his head yes and Ethan's world stops. Just quits moving right there in a dirty alley behind a dive bar in Mississippi. "You're sure?" he whispers.

Grayson stammers a little, grunts in pain with the effort of speaking through a damaged throat. "Tried to make me drink, but I-I wouldn't. So sh-she bit her wrist. Rubbed it. Rubbed it in."

"Oh, God, Grayson. It's okay." Ethan runs his hands through Grayson's hair, smearing blood through the tangles as he tries to soothe him, anything to stop the way Grayson's body is starting to tremble. "It's okay. It's. We'll find her. We'll get her blood. I'll fix it."

He gathers Grayson into his arms, still stroking his hair the best he can, pulling Grayson to his unsteady feet. His arm slides around Grayson's waist as he pulls one of those long arms over his shoulders. His body is so warm, so alive. He can't be. This isn't.

They make their way down the alley to the street where the Jeep is waiting. It takes a while, Grayson fighting the pain and the oncoming fever every step, Ethan keeping up a constant stream of reassurances that don't make any sense but that he needs to say.

Needs to say them because this is his fault.

Gray's hurt because of me. I did this. Myfaultmyfaultmyfault.

His reassurances turn into "I'm sorry" by the time he's lowering Grayson into the passenger seat, buckling his seat belt like Grayson's much more unaware than he is, like he's unable to move at all.

"I shoulda been there. I shouldn't have told you- I'm so sorry."

In his mind, he replays the fight they had earlier, the horrible things he said that drove Grayson to this bar. If not for that fight, if not for his own fucking stupid temper, Grayson would be back at the motel right now. If not for his own fucking dumbass mistakes, Grayson would be drinking a beer in front of his laptop. Or even sleeping. Ethan can't even remember what the fight was about now.

"Not your fault," Grayson huffs out, leaning his head back and keeping his hand over the bite on his neck. There's still a little blood seeping through his fingers, and Ethan wants to drown in it.

Of course, it's his fault.

And now he has to fix it.

Ethan speeds back to the motel, and Grayson calms down a little on the way, his breathing evening out to much deeper, less worrisome inhales. Ethan keeps one hand on him, touching his thigh, his arm, his hair, telling himself he's comforting Grayson, while he's really comforting himself.

The parking lot is empty and dark, and Grayson's already getting out of the car as Ethan rushes around to his side.

"I can walk, E," he says, half-annoyed, and it almost makes Ethan smile for all it's his annoyed tone.

They get into the motel room and Grayson collapses into a chair, head in his hands.

"Get your shirt off," Ethan orders. "I need to clean you up."

"Ethan, we need to talk about this."

"No, we don't." He's already digging through their first aid kit, pulling out alcohol swabs, bandages, and a needle and thread just in case.

"Don't do that."

"Do what? Gray, you're gonna be fine. I was fine, remember? We just need to track her down and get her blood. It worked for me, remember?"

Grayson nods. "Yeah, but if it doesn't, I need you to promise-"

"No."

Ethan's so fucking sick of these promises, so sick of being in situations that need these promises. He's not making another one. He doesn't care what happens or how bad of a decision it is. He's not fucking doing it.

Maybe it's because of Ethan's tone, but Grayson doesn't argue. The argument is still there behind his closed lips, stretched in that tight, straight line, but he keeps his thoughts to himself and takes his shirt off like Ethan told him to. Ethan sinks down to his knees next to the chair and tears open an alcohol swab.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," he warns, brushing his fingers just below the bite on Grayson's neck, more tender and gentler than he's ever been cleaning his own wounds.

Grayson nods and his jaw clenches, bracing himself. He hisses at the first touch, but that's it. He just holds his head to the side and lets Ethan work. Ethan wishes Grayson had never had to learn how to take pain so well.

The bite doesn't need stitches, so Ethan cleans him up and dresses it with a clean bandage, ignoring Grayson's blood stains on his own blue jeans. The bloody swabs and discarded paper packaging litters the floor around his knees, but he doesn't clean them up. The second he's done working on Grayson he leans forward, wraps his arms around Grayson's shoulders and pulls him close, their foreheads pressing together.

"You're okay, bub. I got you."

A small sound like a whimper escapes from Grayson's lips, but he steadies his shaking shoulders. Ethan feels him go rigid and strong in his arms; knows exactly the determination he'll see in the set of Grayson's jaw when he pulls away. That's good. That's what they both need to get him through this.

Ethan holds on a little longer anyway.

"Okay," he nods when he finally manages to let go. "I'm going back to the bar to track her. How you feelin'?"

Grayson swallows hard, his throat bobbing with it. "I think I'm okay. A little woozy, but."

"You'll be fine. Maybe try to get some sleep?"

"Sure, E." Grayson is sincere, but they both know it'll never happen.

"Call me if you need to."

They look at each other, a million words and touches passing between them in their gaze, and then Ethan turns to leave. His hand is on the doorknob when Grayson speaks, calm and steady words.

"This isn't your fault, E."

Ethan doesn't look back as he leaves.

\--

He drives like a bat out of hell back to the alley, hops the fence where the vamp disappeared, and goes still. Looking. Listening. Behind the fence is just woods, thick branches and a symphony of insects. Easy to get lost in.

Not wanting to announce his presence with a flashlight, Ethan squints into what little moonlight there is, finds the path of broken branches she's arrogantly left behind, thinking she was easily going to best them. He moves into them silently, hoping he'll stumble upon her nest, knowing that his luck is never that good.

Eventually he gives in and uses the flashlight, knowing that he'll lose the trail without it and that no matter how quiet he is, she'll hear him coming anyway. His blade is heavy and lethal in his other hand, catching the light every now and then and gleaming into the darkness.

The trail never fades, and with each step, Ethan's stomach starts to sink. Maybe this isn't arrogance that she could win in a fight. Maybe this is her knowing that he still won't find her, even if she leaves a path.

He finds the nest easily about a mile into the trees and knows before he looks that they're all gone. There's no attempt to hide their presence in the abandoned shack, no cleaning up or making it look overgrown again. Which means they're already an hour or two away.

With a sinking stomach, Ethan searches every inch of the place, scours for any clue, anything that might help.

His blood feels like ice when he walks back to the Jeep with fuck all.

"Doesn't matter," he mutters to himself. "We'll figure out a way. Come back in the daylight, maybe. Or research another cure."

He continues talking to himself all the way back to the motel, trying to make his face look convincing, trying not to look like he's announcing a death sentence. And it doesn't fool Grayson for a second, not that he thought it would. Grayson's face doesn't have any hope in it to begin with, so it doesn't fall. He just looks at Ethan with certainty. "They're gone."

Ethan nods and falls to a seat on the edge of one of the beds, rubbing at his hair as his mind races.

"We'll ask around first thing in the morning. Find out if they're local. They could still be close. Maybe there's more than one place they stay."

"Yeah. You should get some sleep, E."

"So, should you."

Grayson smiles a little, eyes trained on an invisible spot on the floor. The air conditioner kicks on and Ethan startles, jolts a little before he lets out the breath, he's been holding all night, most of his hope going with it.

"Alright. Come here."

He scoots back on the bed and stretches out, arms open. Grayson looks at him for a few seconds, blinks while Ethan waits him out, refusing to take no for an answer. It's selfish, and he doesn't deserve it after driving Grayson away, but he's not sleeping without him tonight. When Grayson turns off the light and gets in bed, he slides right in like they're puzzle pieces, his body curving into Ethan's perfectly, his head slotting into Ethan's neck where it always goes. Ethan's hands fit into the curve of Grayson's lower back, locking him in.

"How are you feeling now?"

"My head hurts. And I feel...I don't know. Like I'm buzzing. Like everything is a little fuzzy."

"You think you can sleep?"

Grayson snorts. "Will you?"

"Probably not," Ethan says into the darkness. He wishes they had undressed, that he could feel Grayson's skin, but maybe that's not a good idea right now.

They lie there for a while, syncing their breaths without realizing that's what they're doing, at least at first. When Ethan feels Grayson's chest rising and falling at the exact same time as his, when it occurs to him that they always do that, he thinks their hearts are probably beating at the same time, too.

He doesn't know when he falls asleep, but he jerks awake sometime just before dawn, when everything is extra still and dark.

"Grayson?" he calls out, before his eyes are even all the way open. His mind isn't awake yet, but his body knows Grayson isn't there, is missing the weight of him.

"I'm right here." Grayson's voice comes from the chair, and Ethan tries to find him in the blackness of the room.

"What're you doing?"

"Uh. Nothing, just. I couldn't, uh."

Ethan is sitting up now, willing himself to wake up, to get going. Grayson needs him. "What is it, Gray? Tell me."

"I could smell you. Your blood." Grayson sounds apologetic and disgusted with himself. "I needed to move. Clear my head."

Fuck. Ethan can hear the pain in his voice, the struggle to sound somewhat calm. "Shit. Are you okay?"

Grayson turns his head, eyes flashing in the dark as they catch the light from the streetlamp outside the window. "I'm okay. I'm not in pain or anything. I just. I can hear your heart. I can hear everything."

Ethan doesn't ask what he really wants to know. He doesn't ask if Grayson's thirsty yet, or if the smell of Ethan's blood is a problem for him. Instead, he slides back into the mode he was in last night. Fix this. "Tell me what you know."

There's the sound of Grayson moving around in his chair, and a heavy sigh. "I don't know much. She was just...a woman. I was pissed at you and four beers deep, and she just came over to me at the bar."

Ethan knows that he didn't say it that way intentionally, but the knife in his heart twists again when he remembers that this is his fucking fault. Ethan was being an asshole and he drove Grayson straight into the vampire's teeth.

"She was just talking to me. Her name was Emma. And I bought her a drink, and then she...she invited me back to her place. But she seemed totally normal, E."

Ethan swallows hard, shoves down the thought of Grayson going home with anyone else. He files that away as something to talk about when this is over. When Gray is better.

"So we've got nothing."

"Well," Grayson says, voice desperate like he knows he's grasping at straws, "she had a tattoo on her forearm. Some symbol. Might mean something."

"Draw it."

Ethan leans over and switches on the lamp next to the bed, and Grayson suddenly moves so quickly Ethan doesn't even see the motion. In the time it takes the light to fill the room, Grayson's on his feet, hissing as he covers his eyes with his arm.

"Too bright," he growls, and Ethan immediately shuts the light off.

"I'm sorry," he says to the darkness, eyes trying to adjust to all the changes. "I didn't think-"

"It's just. Too much. All my senses feel so... sensitive right now."

Ethan stumbles to the bathroom and turns that light on, pulling the door almost shut, leaving just enough light to not stumble on his way back. "What about that?"

Grayson nods, already grabbing a pen and the motel notepad to start sketching.

"I'm gonna take a shower while you do that. Soon as the sun comes up, I'm going back out."

Grayson works on the sketch the entire time Ethan's showering and dressing, only handing it over when he's lacing his boots up. It's intricate, one of those designs that could be ancient and meaningful or could be the tattoo on some frat guy's arm. Ethan shrugs.

"Look it up while I'm gone?"

Grayson nods.

Ethan wants to kiss him goodbye. He stands up, grabs his keys, and stares at Gray , forehead all frowned up and body hunched in on itself the way it is when he's scared, and Ethan needs to kiss him, to hold him and tell him it's alright. He doesn't know if he's allowed.

"Grayson, I-"

"It's okay, E. I'm okay." Grayson sounds less convincing than he did last night.

Ethan bobs his head once and grunts his reply, then hurries out the door. The sooner he gets going, the sooner he can save him.

\---

He drives to the bar through the sunrise, gentle pinks and oranges like the world is still turning, like there are still things that are soft and good even when Grayson is hurting. Ethan hates it, finds himself sneering at it as he pushes his foot down.

There's only one person at the bar, an overworked employee locking the doors as the Jeep roars into the parking lot.

"We're closed, man," the guy calls before Ethan gets a foot on the ground.

"Not here for a drink. Just wanna ask you about a woman who was here last night. Emma something?"

The stiffening in the man's shoulders is so subtle Ethan almost misses it, but he's looking, looking for any sign of recognition, and it's there. The man narrows his eyes at Ethan, weighing whether or not he wants to get involved. Ethan's seen that look on lots of people's faces, but this one isn't getting away.

"You know her."

"Emma. Yeah," the man sighs. "What about her?"

"She, uh. My brother was here last night, and." Why didn't Ethan think of a story on the way over here? "And I need to find her. You know where she is?" Vague honesty it is.

"Your brother would do well to just stay away from her. She and her brothers come 'round here sometimes. Always causing trouble."

"Her brothers?" Good. They have been here a while, made a home of this place. Maybe they didn't go far.

The man squints into the sky at the sun, officially risen now and making everything look garishly cheerful to Ethan. "Yeah. Two of 'em. Big guys. Like to fight."

"You know where I can find them?"

"I don't know where they live. Rumor has it they stay at a cabin out on Harper's Lake, but that place doesn't seem like much to me."

Ethan's already thinking, already planning. Harper's Lake. The nest last night was a decoy, or maybe just somewhere they hang out sometimes. The real nest is still here. "Thanks," he tells the man, and sits back down in his car, something very much like hope starting to bloom in his chest. He lets it propel him forward.

To the lake.

The miles drag on too slowly, even though Ethan's got his foot to the floor of the car, that his hands are gripped tightly around the steering wheel as he flies around the curves.

Vampires that make their presence known? Not just a family that quietly takes what they need so they do not have to move around all the time? It's not normal. This family might be more than they're used to.

Ethan pulls up to the woods surrounding the lake and turns off the GPS. There seems to be only one road in, and the man from the bar was right. It doesn't look like much. He pulls the Jeep into the lane anyway, follows it through the trees until it ends at the water, one lone cabin standing in the shadows to his right.

Just like the night before, Ethan knows this is a dead end before he even gets out of the car. He gets out with a heavy heart, searches carefully, but there's not anything here. This place is cleaned out, no sign that anyone, even a vampire family, has been here in months.

Grayson's running out of time.

"Damn it!" he shouts, slamming his boot into a rickety wooden chair that immediately gives and falls in pieces on the dirty floor.

There's not anything to do except go back to the motel and see if Grayson figured anything out about the tattoo. Ethan needs to check on him anyway. He's been gone a few hours now, and Grayson hasn't answered the text he sent.

Once again, Ethan finds himself in his car, racing against time. It's familiar. He shouldn't feel so out of breath, shouldn't feel that prickling of sweat at the back of his neck. He should be used to this, should know exactly what to do.

But he'll never get used to it when it's Grayson.

\--

The curtains are drawn, and Ethan opens the door as little as possible when he slips inside the dark motel room. His heart doesn't beat until he finds Grayson, hunched over on one of the beds, head in his hands.

"Gray?" he whispers.

"Don't get close to me," he growls. His voice is so different, not Ethan's Gray at all. It's feral and painful, scraping over Grayson's tongue with a venom Ethan's never heard from him before.

Ethan freezes in the middle of the room, halfway to his twin, torn between doing what he wants and what Grayson needs. "How bad is it?"

"I'm okay," Grayson manages, but it's through gritted teeth and it still isn't Grayson's voice coming out of his lips. "Just. I can smell you. I can't...you shouldn't come any closer."

"Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine."

That isn't a no, and Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose. "I found two nests, both cleared out. I got nothin' else. You find anything about that tattoo?"

"I looked a little, but the laptop screen...it was too bright. I thought all that shit about light was just a myth."

Ethan shrugs. "It's just the transition." The words almost stick in his throat. Grayson isn't going to end up a vampire. He isn't. "It makes your senses go batshit for a while."

"I saved a couple of sites that looked promising. Can you?"

"Yeah, Gray. Of course. You need anything?"

The whimper is so soft Ethan barely hears it, but he doesn't need to. Every cell in his body jumps toward it, is built to react to exactly that noise, exactly the way Grayson's looking up at him now. Ethan can barely see him in the darkness, but he can see enough. Grayson needs him.

He bounds across the room and yanks his twin into his arms, gripping tight enough to bruise, his hands sliding in Grayson's dirty hair and tangling there. "God, you're burning up," he says, lips on Grayson's forehead as Grayson slumps against his chest.

"Ethan, I can't. It hurts."

Ethan doesn't let go. He needs to feel Grayson breathing, needs the shuddering body underneath his hands while he still has it in front of him. While Grayson is still mostly Grayson. "Shhh."

Grayson drops down on the bed and Ethan goes with him, landing on top of him with a thud, their lips bumping together in an awkward kiss. Ethan licks at Grayson's lips, but Grayson just leans away.

"I can't."

But his hands are on Ethan's back, digging into the muscle there, holding him right where he is and not letting him go.

"I'm sorry," Ethan says again. "I'm gonna fix this, Gray." He kisses wherever Grayson will let him, his forehead, his nose, his eyes, his chin, his ear. "I promise I'm gonna fix this."

Grayson nods, ever the close, trusting twin, taking Ethan at his word. He's always taken care of him before. He'll take care of him now. They take care of each other, after all.

"You think you could sleep? Or at least lie here and rest? I'll look at those sites and see what I can find."

Grayson takes a minute to move, to let go of Ethan, and then nods. Ethan stands up, watches as Grayson's body curls in on itself when he turns to face the wall. Ethan forces himself to walk to the table, to leave Grayson there while he figures this out.

\---

"Ethan?"

The voice is right at the back of Ethan's neck, hot and dangerous, and it startles him out of the nap he didn't mean to take.

Something's different.

"Wake up, E." That voice. It's not the desperate, scared Not Grayson voice from earlier. But it's still not Grayson. It's teasing, dark, something metallic in it that makes Ethan's spine tingle.

"Grayson? You okay?"

He tries to turn around, but strong hands, too strong, clamp down on his shoulders. "I'm great, E."

"Grayson, what the hell are you-"

"I slept. Like big brother told me to. You're the older twin, 'member? And when I woke up, you know what I realized?"

Grayson saunters around to stand in front of him now, tall and broad and fucking terrifying.

"What?" Ethan whispers.

"This isn't a bad thing. You don't have to fix this."

"Grayson, that's the fever. You're just. You didn't go out while I was asleep, did you?" Ethan's blood runs cold. "You didn't feed on anyone, did you?"

Grayson smirks. "No. But let me show you something, E."

Grayson reaches out to the empty chair and flicks his wrist, and Ethan watches as the arm of the chair shatters beneath his fingers. It's all wrong, so wrong. What the fuck. He knew that vampires had some psychic abilities, but he'd never seen someone so strong. And his brother hadn't even fed yet. Ethan's muscles are so rigid it hurts, but he can't move. Grayson's eyes have him glued to his spot.

"Think about it. Immortal. Strong. Perfect. Together forever. Just like the womb."

"That's the blood talking, Grayson. You'd be a monster."

Grayson leans down, runs his hands up Ethan's thighs slowly, careful to keep his touch light. "I'm so thirsty, Ethan. So thirsty. It fuckin' hurts. But I didn't go out. Wanna know why?"

Get out. Call other slayers. Lock Grayson up somewhere until you can figure this out.

Ethan s brain is screaming at him, but his body doesn't listen. His head nods yes. He wants to know. Wants to hear whatever is going on inside of Gray right now.

Grayson slithers into Ethan's lap like he still fits there, straddles Ethan's thighs and dips his head down to press his lips to Ethan's ear. "Because I wanted it to be you, E. I want it to be your blood."

Ethan's cock jerks. It shouldn't. This is beyond wrong. But it's Gray.

"Think about it." Grayson's hands run over Ethan's chest, cradle his jaw, slide back down his arms. "Think about us. Together literally forever. Think about how strong we'd be. We wouldn't have to kill people. We'd find some other way to get blood, and we could keep hunting."

Ethan's eyes close and he shakes his head, trying to clear it and failing miserably when Grayson starts to roll his hips closer. Ethan can feel that he's hard, and fuck if that doesn't do things to him.

"Let me, E." He leans down and licks at Ethan's pulse. "God, I can smell the blood pumping. I need it. Let me, Ethan."

Ethan's shaking, dizzy and confused like Grayson has him under some kind of spell. It's nothing new, it's just Grayson, and Ethan's been under his spell his whole life. They're twins, after all. Can't have one without the other. Twins then, twins even now. Although Ethan can't help but see how monstrous his brother has become.

"N-no," he whispers. "We can't. Let's just-" His hands push at Grayson's thighs, but Grayson doesn't move.

Grayson kisses over Ethan's jaw, letting his teeth scrape. Ethan can feel the restraint, the tension in Grayson's muscles, how Grayson is a real predator now, ready to strike. He holds still and tries to find the strength to stop this. Fuck!

He doesn't have it. Never did. The nests are gone, and he's got no real leads on the tattoo and this is what Grayson is now. And if this is what Grayson is, it's what Ethan will be.

That's the deal they've always made with each other. It's the thing that's kept them alive. They simply can't be without each other.

"Gray..." His voice is still a little unsure, the survival instinct in him saying no, there's still something to be done, Grayson can't bite him.

If he does, there's no going back.

It's too much, too much disorienting confusion, and before Ethan realizes it, Grayson's got his hands working Ethan's jeans open.

"Let me show you," Grayson says, so confident, sliding down to his knees between Ethan's legs. "Let me show you how good this could be."

Grayson's radiating fever-heat, his lips pulling back into an almost-snarl as he pulls Ethan's cock free. He's wild, eyes burning and out of control in a way Grayson never is, the simmering beneath his skin barely contained. Ethan watches, mesmerized, as Grayson leans in, rubs his face in Ethan's lap. The stubble on his face scratches against Ethan's dick, against his balls, and he feels himself blurt precome when Grayson inhales deeply, reveling in Ethan's scent.

"Fuck, Gray, this is-"

Grayson swallows him, burrows down in one swift motion and takes Ethan completely down his throat, all the way to the root. Ethan shouts and his hands fly to Grayson's hair in a reflex, holding on for dear life as Grayson deepthroats him, wet and messy, gags around his cock in a way he's never done before.

Ethan lets Grayson take him apart, lets him drink everything Ethan has to offer. He uses his teeth at one point, drives everything to the brink of pain, to the brink of badwrongdirtytwinbadhe'syourtwin, to the brink of the darkness thrumming through his veins. Ethan goes with him, doesn't put up a fight.

He comes down Grayson's throat, silent except for the sound of his nails scraping the arm of the chair. It takes the breath right out of him, like a punch to the gut, like being slammed down on the ground in a fight. Only the pain never comes. Instead, every nerve of his body burns like it's the first time they've ever touched. When his lungs can work again, he lets out what can only be called a howl as Grayson still hangs off his cock, nursing the tip until Ethan pushes him away, too sensitive to let him keep going.

"See?" Grayson says, not bothering to wipe the spit and come off his chin. His hair is in his eyes, cheeks flushed, eyes practically glowing.

And Ethan remembers. All the reasons why they shouldn't have done this come flooding back and his stomach turns, a wave of terror sweeping through him.

"No," he says loudly, standing up. "I need. I need some air."

Grayson takes a step back, looking mildly annoyed now, but doesn't follow his twin as he rushes out of the room, pulling his jeans back up on the way.

It's late afternoon now, and the sun takes him by surprise, far too cheerful for what's happening in the dark motel room. Ethan runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes, forces the tears threatening to fall to stay right where they are. He doesn't have time for that.

He finds the chains and the toxic blood in the trunk, fills the syringe and hopes against hope that Grayson's not watching through the window. The angle wouldn't allow him to see exactly what Ethan's doing, but he could probably guess. He stuffs the chain in his jacket and zips it up, slides the syringe up his sleeve, and heads back in.

"And what have you decided?" Grayson asks, still standing in the same spot, like he hasn't moved a muscle.

"You know we can't do this. Please tell me that there's still some part of you in there that knows that."

Grayson snorts a laugh that makes Ethan's skin crawl. "We could. We should."

Ethan lets Grayson stalk toward him, slow and graceful like he doesn't want to scare Ethan off. But he doesn't let him say anything. As soon as Grayson is within striking distance, Ethan doesn't hesitate. The syringe sinks into Grayson's neck easily, and he practically roars, an almost inhuman sound, then slumps to the floor, clutching his neck.

"Poisoned blood?" He's already struggling, fumbling around, unable to stand up.

Ethan talks around the bile rising in his throat at what he just did. "I'm sorry, Gray. Had to make sure you were safe. You'll be safe here." He pulls out the chains, drags Grayson over to the vanity area, and secures him to the sink, hoping that the pipes will hold if it takes him longer to get back here than he's planned.

"What are you doing?" Grayson murmurs, eyes struggling to focus in his weakened state.

"I told you. I'm going to fix you. I'm not coming back without that vamp, Gray. And we'll fix you, okay?"

Grayson doesn't answer. He just lets his head fall to the side and goes limp.

\--

Ethan already knows there isn't much in the sites Grayson saved. So, he takes the sketch and heads to the main street in the town. It's starting to bustle with the evening crowd, music drifting out of restaurants and people laughing as they window shop.

Ethan's already left messages with every hunter he can think of who might be able to help, who might be able to find a cure without needing the vampire, but he's not overly hopeful. Instead, he shows the picture of the tattoo and describes Emma to everyone he can get to listen, hoping that someone will be able to tell him something new, any little piece of information that could give him a new lead.

"They live around here. One of them has this tattoo, might be a family crest or something?"

No one knows a fucking thing.

Ethan forces himself to keep moving, to keep asking. He bothers some teenagers, accidentally scares a young woman who's walking alone, has to repeat himself three times until he's loud enough for an old couple to hear him. No one knows anything.

Eventually, he ducks into an alley by himself and punches the brick wall, probably breaking a finger and not giving a shit. "Someone has to know something!"

"Oh," a voice behind him says. "Someone does."

Ethan whips around just in time for Emma's punch to land right on his jaw, knocking him out.

\---

"Wake up, sleepyhead." The sing-song voice echoes in Ethan's ear, but he can't make sense of it. It's unfamiliar and a little eerie. "Come on, open those pretty brown eyes."

Something touches his neck, lightly drags across his skin. A finger. Ethan's brain starts to catch up and he blinks his eyes open, squints up at the vampire looming over him.

"There you are," Emma smiles, too many teeth glittering in the fluorescent light. Ethan moves to stand up, but his muscles strain against ropes holding him down, forcing him to stay in the chair, unable to move.

Fuck.

"Where am I?" He doesn't expect her to answer the question, but it buys him some time to look around. He's in some sort of abandoned building, naturally. Nothing special or descriptive about it. Maybe some old factory that's been shut down.

And then he sees it, carved on the wall over the one door he can see. The tattoo.

"Doesn't matter."

"That your business logo or something?" Ethan nods toward the design.

"Again, that doesn't matter. What matters is that Grayson will be here soon."

"Grayson?" Ethan's whole body tenses again as he growls, hands twisting to figure out the knot holding them together and try to work it open. "What about Grayson?"

"Well, before I was so rudely interrupted by you the other night, I was in the process of turning him. Has he fed yet?"

Ethan stares at her, trying to keep his face blank as the rage wells inside of him.

She keeps talking when it becomes obvious Ethan isn't going to. "He'll be the perfect addition to our family. Fit, strong, smart. I wanted him the second I saw him." She circles around the chair, letting a fingernail scrape across the back of Ethan's shoulders, sharp even through the layers of his shirt. "You know, now that you're here, maybe I want you, too. Fuck, you too look so much alike; are you guys twins or somthin'?"

Ethan doesn't react to her words. "Speaking of, where is the rest of your family?"

Emma snorted. "Who knows. Out. Fucking someone or drinking someone. Maybe both."

"They left you alone to deal with Grayson?"

"I can handle him."

Ethan fakes a snort. "Then you clearly don't know Grayson. But, I gotta ask." Ethan keeps his voice as steady as he can. "If he's the one you're after, why did you capture me?"

"Because I couldn't find him!" she snaps. "The two of you disappeared in that damn car and I couldn't track you."

Ethan manages a condescending smirk. "A vampire who can't track people? How have you not starved to death?"

She leans forward and grabs his jaw, squeezing hard enough for him to grunt with it. "Don't worry. I'll have Grayson soon enough. I made sure to leave a trail of your blood from that injured hand of yours. I got the feeling that the two of you don't get separated very much. He'll come looking for you in town, find the trail, and then I'll have him."

Ethan doesn't say anything. The poisoned blood will wear off soon if it hasn't already. Grayson will have no problem getting out of the chains, and Emma's right. He'll come looking for Ethan.

But what are the odds that he'll be able to get to Ethan without feeding? And then he'll be...no. No, Ethan can't think about that.

The vampire lets go of Ethan's face, and he watches as she begins to pace, seemingly out of things to say. He keeps working at the ropes, but the angle is wrong and the knots are secure. He doesn't make much progress.

Barely an hour passes before Emma's head snaps up. Her eyes focus and she tilts her head, listening to something Ethan can't hear.

"Come on out, Grayson," she says, voice dripping with sweetness that makes Ethan want to throw up. "Come on out here and meet your new family."

Out of the shadows where it looks like there's some sort of passage or hallway, Grayson comes slinking out, eyes burning, chest heaving with harsh breaths.

"Gray!" Ethan can't help it, he has to call out to him, has to see that he's okay.

Grayson doesn't look at him. He's focused on Emma, walking slowly toward her open arms, like she's welcoming him home.

"Grayson? Gray!"

Nothing. Grayson can't seem to hear him.

"You haven't fed yet," Emma comments, reaching out to run a hand over his chest. Ethan pulls hard enough against the ropes to feel a trickle of sticky blood run down his hand.

She touched Grayson. He'll fucking kill her.

Grayson doesn't hug her like she seems to want. "No. I didn't feed." His voice is flat, guarded, and Ethan has never felt so helpless.

"That's okay," she soothes. "There's someone here who can help with that."

Grayson turns his head and looks at Ethan like he just realized he was here, like it wasn't Ethan's blood that brought him here in the first place.

"Ethan."

"Grayson, you don't-"

"Shut up." Emma lunges across the room in three long steps and slides behind Ethan, hands on his shoulders so he can't move at all. "No one asked your opinion about this. Now be a good boy, and let Grayson here have a taste."

Grayson narrows his eyes to Ethan, focusing in hungrily, licking his lips as he makes his way forward. His nostrils flare when he gets close, breathing in Ethan's scent.

"Smells good, doesn't he?" Emma says. "I almost drank him myself getting him back here. You two really do look alike. But you, Grayson, getting you here was too important to me."

There's an urgency in her voice, something a little deranged. Grayson looks back and forth between them while Ethan just sits there, heart slamming in his chest.

"Drink, Grayson. Drink him, and he can be one of us, too. Take him. I know you feel it. The strength. The power. Don't you want it?"

Grayson leans down toward Ethan.

"No," Ethan pleads. "Don't do this. This isn't you. It's not what-it's not right. Please, Grayson. Please don't do this."

It's begging. He's begging his twin. And it's never going to work. But Ethan's out of options.

He goes silent when Grayson grabs his hair and pulls his head to the side, exposing his neck.

"I need it, E. Need you. To taste you."

The whimper that escapes Ethan's throat is involuntary.

Emma steps back out of the way, leaving Ethan's back free, but there's no escaping now. Grayson bares his teeth, leans down and rubs his nose against Ethan's pulse.

"Gray," Ethan whispers. It's not a plea this time. It's just the thought Ethan always has in moments like these. When his entire life should flash before his eyes, he's always seen Grayson. Only Grayson. The other half of his whole.

Maybe it's the tone of voice. Or maybe Grayson can still feel what he's feeling, the way he's always been able to. But something changes. Grayson's grip in Ethan's hair loosens a little. His head stops moving and his shoulders stiffen.

"Gray? You in there? Can you hear me?" Ethan jumps at the small bit of the real Grayson peeking through the cracks of whoever this is in front of him. "Stay with me. Please. Don't do this. Just stay with me, okay?"

"Do it!" Emma hisses, jumping forward again, pissed off now. "Drink, Grayson. Give in to it."

Ethan feels the sharp edges of Grayson's teeth on his skin, warm with Grayson's breath, ready to pierce.

"Yes," Emma encourages. "Do it."

Ethan feels Grayson move before he does it, can sense the change in his muscles. Emma never sees Grayson coming. In the blink of an eye, Grayson pounces, hands at her throat and his full weight slamming her down to the ground. She doesn't scream or cry out in pain, even when Ethan hears the crack of her skull on the concrete floor. It all happens too fast.

Grayson looks up at Ethan from where he's crouched over her. "Ethan ...?" He's desperate now, scared and small and hurting as he calls out for his twin.

"In my boot, Grayson. There's a leather pouch with a syringe."

Grayson wastes no time digging the deathly blood out and injecting Emma, who just moans quietly and stays limp on the floor, only making a half-hearted attempt to fight Grayson off.

"It hurts, E," Grayson whines, hands dropping the syringe and pulling at his hair. "I can't-we need to hurry."

"Get me out of these ropes." Ethan wants to hold him, wants to kiss him and tell him everything will be fine, but he can't. Not yet. He keeps his shit together as Grayson cuts through the ropes with his knife in one long sweep, whining again at the smell of blood on Ethan's hands.

"Okay. We need to get to the Jeep. The stuff we need is in the trunk. We'll get her back to the motel and we'll cure you, okay? Can you hang on a few more minutes?"

"I don't...it hurts, Ethan ...I can't-"

"Grayson. Look at me."

Grayson looks up and meets Ethan's eyes. It's not a physical touch, which Ethan can't give him right now, but it's almost as good. Ethan holds Grayson's gaze, lifts his chin and nods once, calm and sure. "You can do this. Right?"

Grayson squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering, shallow breath. "Okay. I can do this."

Ethan wants to tell him how proud he is, that only Grayson Fucking Dolan could do what he's doing, could resist the evil inside of him.

He'll tell him later.

When this is all over.

"Okay. Where are we?"

"Outside of town. I, uh. I found the Jeep in town and drove it here. It's parked a mile or so up the lane."

"Let's go, then."

-

Ethan's right next to Grayson's bed when he wakes up two days later.

"How you feelin', Gray?"

Grayson stares up at the ceiling for a moment, mouth turned down like he's really thinking about the answer to that question. "I'm okay," he finally says. "Better."

"Good. You hungry?"

"Not really."

"Well, you should eat something. It's been a couple of days."

"Just. Let me wake up a little, okay?"

Ethan nods and sits back in his chair, the chair that has been parked by Grayson's bed for forty-eight hours. Ethan is tired and dirty and hungry himself, but he doesn't notice. Grayson's here and alive and safe. After they used what they needed of Emma's blood to cure Grayson, he decapitated the vampire himself. They both watched the pieces of her burn.

"Ethan?"

"Yeah, Gray."

"What about the rest of them? Her brothers?"

Ethan runs a hand through his hair and shifts in the chair, sore muscles screaming at him for being in one cramped position for far too long. "We'll wait until you get your strength back. Give them a couple days to think we're gone. And then we'll take care of them."

Grayson nods. "Okay. The tattoo?"

"Just some symbol, as far as I know. Maybe passed down through the family. Or maybe they just made it up. But I found out they used to own that factory. Probably made a pretty good cover story while it was still up and running."

Grayson nods and breathes out heavily.

"You sure you don't need anything?"

Grayson turns his head and locks his eyes onto Ethan's face. "Would you, uh. Would you lie with me for a while?"

Ethan's halfway in the bed before Grayson finished the question. He's been giving Grayson his space while he sleeps, knowing that Grayson needs to be the one to ask, needs to feel like he's in control of his body again before Ethan asks to touch and share it. But God, he needs to touch him, needs to feel his skin a normal temperature under his hands, needs to hear a normal heartbeat in Grayson's chest.

He slides under the covers in his jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet, and presses against Grayson's side. Grayson's only wearing his underwear, and Ethan strokes his chest and stomach, feeling it twitch like it always does when he touches a sensitive spot, feels the skin dry of sweat, and warm like it's supposed to be. Grayson turns and wraps his arm around Ethan, burying his face in Ethan's neck and holding on tight.

"I'm so sorry, E."

Ethan pushes him back to look him in the eyes. "What? What are you sorry for? None of this- and I mean none of it- was your fault."

Grayson lowers his eyes. "I made you. I mean, we..." He glances over to the chair by the table, remembering.

Ethan cups Grayson's face in his hands and holds him tight, makes him make eye contact. "I didn't ask you to stop, Grayson. That was my fault for letting you. This whole thing was my fault. That stupid fight. And then you...you're the one who saved me. I can't even-"

Grayson surprises Ethan by laughing, a soft and almost sad chuckle, but one that comes with a real smile. "How about we make a deal? How about we just let each other off the hook this time?"

Ethan smiles. He'll never let himself off the hook. This is one more mark on his list of fuck-ups, one more way that he let Grayson down. One more thing he'll answer for someday. But that burden shouldn't be on Grayson. "Okay, Gray," he says.

Grayson leans forward and kisses him, slow and soft. Ethan doesn't deserve it, but like the selfish asshole he is, he takes it, drinks it in and tries to drown in it.

"Ethan?" Grayson says against his lips. "I need you. Please."

Ethan can feel it thrumming in Grayson's clinging fingers, can hear it in his voice, so he nods and rolls to the side. "On your back."

Grayson breathes out a sigh of relief as Ethan rolls to hover over him, blocking out the rest of the world with his arms as he cages Grayson in, leans down to kiss him until neither of them can breathe. Grayson. Grayson's okay. Grayson is still Grayson.

Grayson whimpers a little into the kiss and breaks the skin on Ethan's shoulder with his nails as he claws at him, desperate to get closer. "Need it, Ethan. Need to feel you. Please. "

Ethan kisses his way down Grayson's chest, refusing to be as rough as he feels inside, even if Grayson begs. Grayson needs him calm, needs him solid and certain and steady, needs to feel something gentle and safe. And Ethan needs to treat him that way for himself too, needs to worship his body until Grayson can feel his apology in his bones.

He hooks his fingers in Grayson's underwear and pulls it off, yanks his own t-shirt over his head and discards them both on the floor in a rumpled heap. Grayson's hard, long and thick and exposed to Ethan. Begging.

Ethan holds onto his calm control. It's surprisingly easy, now that he can feel Grayson's familiar body beneath his, exactly how it's supposed to be. He takes his time sucking at Grayson's hipbones, holds him down so he can nip at his inner thighs. Grayson eventually settles down and just lets him, the desperation seeping out of him and turning to relief instead, small shivers of pleasure making him tremble every now and then as he sighs.

It's only been a few days, but Ethan has missed this. He spreads Grayson's legs and lets his tongue explore like it's been years, sucking at his cock, licking, opening him up soft and warm and wet, just like he deserves. He touches every curve, tastes every part, selfishly savors it even as he tries his best to make it good for Grayson, to show him how sorry he is that this happened.

Grayson reaches down and strokes his fingers through Ethan's hair. He understands. He accepts Ethan's apology. Ethan knows he doesn't deserve it, but he moans anyway, lets himself off the hook so he can focus on thrusting his tongue into Grayson's ass.

Grayson quietly falls apart against Ethan's lips, until he's nothing but sweat and twitching muscle, broken off noises punching out of him every now and then.

"E," he finally moans. "Come on."

Ethan smiles, runs his hands up and down Grayson's sides before he stands up and takes off his pants, taking a minute to dig the lube out of his bag.

He works Grayson over with his fingers just like he did his tongue, lube-slick and hot as he squeezes his cock, his balls, slides two fingers into his hole. Grayson is so soft, opens so easily for him. Like their bodies belong connected together always.

He can't hold out very long, can't tease Grayson the way he wants to, but he does manage to slick up his cock with a steady hand. He slowly pushes in with gentle hips, watching Grayson's face, making sure Grayson can see his eyes. Without words, he tells Grayson he loves him, that he'll always save him, always bring him back. Somewhere in their hearts, they know that if he couldn't save him, he'd have let Grayson bite him. He'd let him turn him. He would never have killed him when he could just become the same kind of monster. It's scary and wrong, but the thought comforts him, knowing that they'll always have each other. Even when they aren't themselves.

Grayson leans up and kisses him like he knows everything Ethan's thinking. Of course, he does. Ethan kisses back as he starts to thrust, a steady rhythm building in his bones that he works to control. Grayson runs his hands down Ethan's back to his ass and squeezes, driving him deeper until they can hear their hips smacking with each movement.

Ethan shifts his weight to one arm so he can stroke Grayson's cock with the other, rubbing his thumb over the head just the way Grayson likes.

"Ethan ..." Grayson gasps. "I'm gonna. You're gonna make me come."

Ethan groans for those words, for the fact that he's allowed to do this. "Please," he groans. "Do it. Let me feel it."

Grayson's orgasm hits him the same way they're fucking, slow and intense like a cresting wave that finally breaks. Grayson arches up, jaw clenching, fingers grabbing, mouth open as he lets out a low, animal sound. Ethan watches in awe, lets the clenching of Grayson's ass around his cock drag him to his own orgasm. But even as he comes, even as the shockwaves make his body jerk and convulse, he doesn't stop watching Grayson. He can't take his eyes off him, because watching the thick pulses of Grayson's come, watching the way he squeezes his eyes shut, is almost better than Ethan's own orgasm.

Afterward, Ethan lets himself collapse on Grayson, their foreheads together, breathing in unison to try and calm their racing hearts. Ethan doesn't bother to pull out of Grayson, won't do it until he softens and slips out on his own, just so he can feel Grayson as long as possible.

"Grayson," he murmurs, and it's as good as I love you.

"Ethan," Grayson answers, and it's as good as I love you, too.

"Next time we fight, can you just stay in the room anyway? Ignore me and go to bed or something? I'll apologize in the morning, I promise. Just. No more running away."

Grayson chuckles a little under his breath and wraps his arms around Ethan in a tight hug. "I promise."


	2. Noctural Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a world in which werewolves are known to humanity but are treated like wild animals. Imprisoned. Executed. They have the rights equivalent to the common rabid dog. When Grayson has a one-night stand with a random woman he picks up at the club, a woman he doesn't know is a werewolf, he is bitten in the throes of passion. He keeps his new secret from his twin brother for four months but with intense consequences.

2.

Ethan and Grayson, 21

Top Grayson, Bottom Ethan

\---

Grayson was good at keeping it a secret.

He was surprised, really, especially since Ethan was always so observant. They told each other everything. Everything.

Well, almost everything.

He managed to keep Ethan in the dark for four months. Four months after Shelly, Grayson was aware of what he had turned into.

It was really Grayson's fault, he thought. He had told Shelly to bite him. It was a personal kink. He just didn't expect her to bite hard enough to draw blood. It wasn't even the first thing he thought of when she wolfed out again.

It came to him when she was begging him not to leave her, not to be afraid of her. Afraid of what she was, afraid of her predatory eyes, frightened of the way her teeth could elongate at will. He prayed to God the bite didn't affect him when she wasn't a wolf, when she wasn't that snarling beast.

Grayson ran.

He didn't look back.

After all, he was two towns over and he hoped-how well do they track anyway? How well can they smell...?-that she wouldn't be able to track him down. He had gotten away after a rather hard argument with his brother, one that left him bitter and stung. He felt ashamed too, especially when he thought of how much he loved Ethan, how he loved him even more than you should love one's twin. He wanted an escape, to touch smooth skin, to feel lips pressed up against his own, to forget what he could never have.

He made preparations for the next week leading up to the full moon just in case. He walked himself in the middle of woods nearby their house Ethan and chained himself to a sturdy tree. For a long time, he waited.

Right when Grayson was about fall into an uncomfortable sleep, he felt it. Something sharp twisted in his gut as if the beast inside were clawing its way out from deep in his belly. The pain was mild at first, but it grew quickly and Grayson screamed.

This isn't right, he thought. I'm supposed to be asleep when it happens.

He screamed again and prayed Ethan never woke up to find his bed empty. He prayed that the chains held him for the whole night. He prayed someone was listening to his prayers.

Soon something was taking over his consciousness turning his wails of pain into howls of freedom and victory. The beast was taking over completely, and he was powerless against it. It stretched its claws and snapped its teeth, pulling against its restraints.

Grayson watched through the eyes of his beast with horror as the animal caught the scent of human blood not extremely far away. It clawed desperately at the thick chains.

But, thank God, they held.

For four months he'd been chaining himself to trees and putting a gun loaded with silver rounds to his chest, but he was too weak to pull the trigger. He didn't want to leave Ethan, knowing his brother would somehow blame himself.

Being a werewolf wasn't something that Grayson wanted. He didn't want the pain, he didn't want the stigma, he didn't want to be...this.

It wasn't like the movies. Werewolves couldn't control themselves on a full moon. In fact, just being a werewolf could get you thrown in a maximum-security prison...or worse...killed. Executed.

But now Grayson was thinking that it wasn't enough. Not only was he awake when he turned, but he was beginning to get strange, animal-like urges. His sense of smell was heightened, and he could swear he saw his eye colour change to a glowing yellow once when he was angry. His temper was getting shorter each month. He didn't have a good temper to begin with. It was scaring him.

He thought it might be side effects to not eating human meat and he didn't like it. He always put raw meat out in the reach of his beast on full moons, but it only had a taste for human.

Grayson knew this, too, was a side effect of being a werewolf. Why wonder they're hunted, he thought, not wanting to include himself in it. It wasn't we; it was they. He would never admit to the thing he had become.

Ethan still didn't seem to notice anything was up and it made Grayson wonder if his twin was really paying attention to him anymore or if he was just that ignorant.

Maybe it was that they were both busy with college. Studying. Exams. Projects. They went to the local community college in town having lived in their rented house since they moved out of their mom's at the age of eighteen, three years ago.

Grayson tried to be as normal as he could, but it was kind of hard when he could smell everything Ethan had eaten in the last week on his breath. It was disgusting. And then there was the clubs Ethan always dragged him to on the weekends if they didn't have any major projects or papers due the following week. The music was always too loud, and the scent of pheromones was too strong. Lust was always in the air and Grayson was the only one who could smell it. He ended up spending each time with a sourpuss expression of plain annoyance.

Sometimes it was easy to control himself and sometimes it wasn't. He tried to talk to Ethan about it once. He was prepared to tell him the truth, but Ethan brushed him off. He was too busy watching some movie late one Friday night, wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of a hot beverage in his hand, saying whatever Grayson had to say, it could wait.

"Not now," Ethan said dismissively, "Gray, I'm tired, bro."

That made him see red. He was always frustrated with pent up anger before he was a werewolf, but now it busted out of him. He closed himself off in the bathroom before he completely lost himself. A low, animalistic growl escaped his chest. His eyes were glowing yellow; he could see it in the mirror. And there it was. The craving was nearly unbearable. It was hunger more painful than turning.

"Gray, you okay in there?" Ethan called. He was still on his bed, eyes glued to the TV screen, Grayson could tell by the lack of sincerity in his voice.

Grayson didn't reply, afraid his voice wouldn't be his. He turned on the water in the shower and stood under it, still clothed but not caring. He just wanted to find some way to soothe the beast away.

To his surprise, it actually worked. The moment he focused on the feel of the water against his skin, the beast faded back. Grayson was so relieved that he let himself laugh. Of all things, water was all he needed all along. He took his clothes off and just enjoyed the feel of the spray.

It was a while later when Ethan knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you've been in there for hours. I gotta piss," he said through the door.

It didn't feel like hours to Grayson. Next week was the week of the full moon and he had things to plan out anyway. He shut off the now freezing water. Grayson didn't shiver at the cold. He just put a towel around his waist and left his soaked clothes.

Ethan looked annoyed when he opened the door. He pushed his way past Grayson and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Silently, Grayson thought of a way to convince Ethan to stay in the house over the next week's nights.

\---

Ethan knew Grayson. He knew him better than anyone else, but all the sudden he was doing things that made Ethan think differently. He didn't say anything about it, of course. He didn't throw up anything in his face, didn't accuse him. There was no point. Sometimes his twin just needed space, just needed his own quiet time.

When he found Grayson's soaking wet clothes on the floor of the bathroom, he knew he shouldn't have blown Grayson off. Everything was still in his jean pocket: cell phone, credit cards, crumbled dollar bills, ID. It was like he forgot he was wearing clothes until after he got in the shower.

What the hell?

Thoughts stormed Ethan's mind as he pushed up from the bathroom floor, one of those being what in the world was wrong with his twin.

\---

Grayson took long showers and made sure he had a bottle of water in case it decided to make an appearance. He was glad that he finally found something that gave himself control. Better water than something harder to keep discreet.

He noticed Ethan watching him more closely lately. Waiting for a slip up that never came. Eventually he gave up looking for whatever it was he thought he might see.

It was the night of the first change of the month, and he had everything ready again. He slipped out of their house and walked toward the nearest wooded area.

Ethan saw Grayson grab a bag and walk out and for a moment, he had no idea what the hell his brother was doing. Was he...camping? On a full moon? There was a distinct curfew on full moons, just to keep citizens protected. So this...this really didn't make a whole lot of sense.

He knew he was wrong when Grayson practically jogged into the New Jersey woodlands beside their house. Ethan got dressed quickly and followed him into a heavily forested area, not bothering to grab him cell phone or anything.

Grayson was almost where he wanted to be when the wind changed, and he smelt it. He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. Ethan's familiar scent drifted on the breeze. Grayson knew this day was coming soon. But right now...no. Please no.

"E, I know you're out here." He said, swallowing thickly.

When Grayson stopped, Ethan stopped too, surprised by the abrupt change. Then Grayson said what he hoped he wouldn't.

Ethan walked the distance between them and cautiously approached his twin.

"Why did you follow me, E?" he asked quietly.

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. It's not every day you go walking out with a bag," he looked around, suddenly feeling rather exposed in the woodlands. Growing up, he and Grayson loved the woods. Now that the sun was down and the knowledge that it wasn't the safest place in the world right then was making Ethan feel rather anxious. Grayson's voice broke him out of his concentration.

Grayson sighed. "C'mon. I have something to show you."

He started leading them to his ultimate destination.

"What's this about?" Ethan couldn't help asking as he watched his brother's back. He had several theories, one of them being Grayson had lost his damn mind and they needed to get back to the house so he could call the looney bin.

Grayson stopped and threw his bag down at the base of the tree he would be using tonight.

"It doesn't wait."

He tossed Ethan his silver loaded pistol. Ethan caught it numbly, the meaning of Grayson's words still sinking in. He glanced down at the gun and then back at his twin, his heart thudding in his chest.

He watched as Grayson pulled a long, durably strong chain out of the duffle he had taken with him. Grayson wrapped it loosely around the tree once and locked it with a padlock. Then he took the other end of the chain and wrapped it tightly around his middle four times and padlocked it as well.

Shock flooded Ethan's system, his eyes tracing over him.

"Grayson, what–"

"Just stay out of my reach. No matter what happens, stay out of my reach," he said. It was humiliating enough to show Ethan, but if he accidentally killed him, he was sure he'd finally pull the trigger on himself.

"If you want to, shoot me," he said more quietly.

Grayson put a key in his pocket. The key to the padlocks. He could see the wheels turning in Ethan's head as he pieced it together.

"A-are you a-"

"Yes." Grayson cut him off, trying to cut the emotion from his voice but failing miserably. He hated the look of shock on Ethan's face.

"What happened?"

"There was a woman a few months ago...we had sex. She...she bit me. I didn't know."

"She bit you? Why the hell didn't you tell me?!" Ethan yelled.

"I wasn't sure. Just wanted to make sure," Grayson nearly whispered. His breath hitched at the familiar feeling of his insides turning painfully. Ethan took a few steps forward.

"Stay back!" Grayson yelled at him sharply, watching the way the pistol was loose in Ethan's hand. "It's starting."

Ethan stepped back again. He looked away while Grayson convulsed in pain and tried to stop screaming. This was too much. Seeing a video on YouTube was differently than seeing one's own loved one. It was especially hard seeing Grayson like this.

Ethan only dared to bring his gaze back when howls replaced Grayson's screams. He couldn't believe it was his brother before him. Grayson's eyes were yellow and glowing, his teeth had lengthened dangerously to sharp points, and his nails turned to razor sharp claws. Grayson looked big and terrifying, his hefty biceps bulging with the strain. The beast immediately began clawing and snapping in Ethan's direction, agitated by the smell of his fear and the small number of pheromones he was giving off.

Grayson's human mind was disgusted, but his beast mind wanted it. It wanted it and would pay any cost to have it. Grayson tried to fight it, but the wolf's will was stronger than his. The pressure of the chains on his ribs made him think he might hurt himself.

Eventually, the beast gave up trying to get to Ethan and gave itself room to breathe again. Grayson was relieved for a second, but his beast went and threw itself in Ethan's direction. Grayson felt the pain of the chains pressing hard into his body when he was yanked back. It was excruciating.

Ethan had been watching with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. The gun fell from his hands when Grayson came at him again. He was quickly jerked back by the chains again.

"Grayson, stop! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Grayson wanted to scream. He knew that and if he had control, he would stop.

The beast went back toward the tree, turned, and came back at Ethan again. It coughed when the air left its lungs. It snapped and growled and clawed at the ground.

"Holy shit, Grayson stop!" Ethan yelled again. For a moment he did stop. He stopped thrashing and clawing and growling, but when he couldn't hear Ethan's voice, he lashed out again and again.

"Grayson take it easy," Ethan said. "It's me, Gray. It's Ethan."

Grayson stopped again. His eyes bore on Ethan, wanting more. Expecting more. His chest heaved; every exhale made a small, quiet growl.

"This scares the fuckin' shit outta me, but I'm going to get closer so you don't hurt yourself. Just calm down." Ethan kept his eyes low, hand outstretched toward Grayson as stepped forward slowly. He kept talking. "I'm leaving the gun and walking to my death. My brother, the werewolf, is going to kill me, but I'm really hoping I'm wrong."

Ethan swallowed thickly, shaking as he watched Grayson's eyes, watched the way they lifted, watching him.

"When I get to you, please don't eat me," he begged. "Grayson, I know you're in there somewhere. Try to control it for me so I can get close."

Grayson was surprised when he found his lips were trembling. "Nugh....get...bre....back..." he tried to say.

"I don't need to get back. You won't hurt me. You love me too much," Ethan said, trying to lighten the situation with a tease.

Grayson balled his hands into fists. "Wo.....wolf......not...ler...love...." he managed to grumble between gritted, sharp teeth.

Ethan took a deep breath. He stepped within Grayson's reach. "I'm going to touch you now. I'll try to keep talking." Ethan took Grayson's arm gently. "Not so bad–"

The beast pounced on Ethan, tackling him to the ground, all breath leaving his lungs.

"Fuck, Gray! Shit!"

The fear in Ethan's voice was delicious.

Grayson was holding Ethan down harshly. He sniffed Ethan's neck, hot breath over pulsing skin, scenting the spiking lust in his blood. When Ethan struggled, Grayson let his teeth lightly press into his throat, a warning to stop moving.

Ethan whimpered humiliatingly and stilled from absolute terror of being bitten. Grayson sniffed down Ethan's body, only to stop at Ethan's crotch.

Ethan's eyes widened, his mouth falling open as he looked down.

The beast nuzzled Ethan with his face and tried to lick him through his pants before using its claws to shred the crotch of the jeans away. Ethan was trembling now, wishing he wasn't being turned on by this.

Grayson licked Ethan's half hard cock to full arousal.

"Shit, this is so wrong," Ethan whispered.

Ethan was pushed to sit on his hands and knees, not daring fight the obvious fact of who the Alpha was in this situation. He knew what Grayson wanted now and he was trying very hard to keep himself relaxed. The more he tensed, the worse it would hurt. It was better than Grayson trying to eat him, he thought.

Grayson tore away the seat of Ethan's jeans, licking his way to Ethan's hole. Ethan squealed–he fucking squealed–and shivered, but he didn't squirm away. The beast growled–more like purred–vibrating from its chest to Ethan's opening.

The real Grayson clawed away in his own mind, fighting and losing dominance over his own body. He was horrified of the situation and desperately trying to stop. He was still tuned into every sensation. He could smell Ethan's mixed scent of warm vanilla, shaving cream, cotton clothing, sweat, dirt, fear, pheromones, and blood. He could taste him like he's sure not many ever have while the beast tongue fucked him.

And Ethan liked it.

He was embarrassed to think how much he liked it.

It wasn't everyday that he got to say that a werewolf Grayson attacking him would be this sexually pleasurable. It should've been traumatizing but it just...wasn't.

Why wasn't he fighting as hard as Grayson was to stop this? What kind of pent up kink does Ethan have to like this?

"Ah, teeth, Gray! Ah," Ethan hissed in warning.

The beast took its tongue away and ripped Ethan's pants all the way off, leaving him bare for the whole world. It looked down at its own pants and clawed away the front of those as well. It was rock hard and ready.

Ethan felt Grayson hump him. He felt him try and blindly find his hole. Ethan reached behind himself and guided him in only to be swatted away by claws. Blood immediately dripped down his arm by the scratches. Ethan gasped and groaned at both the wound and the feeling of Grayson thrust himself to the hilt, not giving him any adjusting time.

The beast slammed home without mercy. It thrusted in and out without a rhythm of any sort. Ethan grunted in pain every time, but he somehow managed to stay hard and wanting more.

Grayson couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Of course, he loved Ethan. Loved him more than he should. He wanted him...but not like this. Not in this type of situation. Not taking him by force.

Ethan was almost there. The edge was so close. He always wondered what it would be like to be taken forcefully and harshly and now that he's had it, he liked it. Ethan loved it, liked the feeling of the heat, the growls, Grayson's large hands, his breath, his body. He tried meeting Grayson's thrusts, but claws dug into his hips, stilling him immediately.

Then Grayson started swelling inside him. It took Ethan a moment to process what it was, and it was a full-on beast knot. Grayson was knotting him. And it was working. The knot caught at his rim painfully, but when Grayson thrusted it back in, pressure on his prostate gave him what he needed. He came and cried out from all of the intense sensations.

The beast came inside of Ethan, but it wasn't normal. Grayson knew it wasn't normal. He was shooting more semen inside Ethan than he thought he ever had. He felt his body drape over Ethan, for the first time in the last moons, the beast was sated.

Finally satisfied.

He never knew that this was what it really wanted. Ethan.

A long, low howl was sung by it as it pumped the last of its warmth inside with one last rock in its hips. The beast scented Ethan's neck and grazed its teeth over until it found the spot it was looking for.

Grayson and Ethan both tensed up at the beast ready to bite. Grayson had stopped fighting somewhere along the line but started again when he thought it was going to bite him. Ethan trembled with terror again. "No, Grayson stop!"

For some reason, the beast listened this time. It settled for licking Ethan's throat.

Every few minutes, the knot would surge with a little more cum until it finally deflated twenty minutes later. The beast pulled out of Ethan and laid Ethan down on his side and curled up behind him. The chain was still uncomfortable, but the beast brushed it off.

For the first time in four months, the beast thought a single word–not a growl or a distressed yelp or even a howl. It though one word:

Mate.

***

Grayson woke up feeling sore from the change and horrified by Ethan's body still spooning him. Grayson's face was nuzzled into Ethan's shoulder. The morning was crisp and damp, but Grayson was hot and worried.

He shot up and looked down at him. He was already awake, eyes staring blankly ahead.

"E?" He breathed, could barely speak, the emotion caught in his throat. The panic, the shame, the disgrace. "A-are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ethan said after a moment and glanced up at him, giving him a reassuring smile. He looked so tired. "I'm okay."

After what had happened, Grayson really didn't think so.

He then silently went into his routine of preparing to be seen in civilization again. He freed himself, wrapped up the chain and replaced the spot of his spare clothes with it in his bag. He threw a pair of sweatpants at Ethan while putting on a pair of his own after discarding his ruined jeans.

Grayson was never sure of what to expect so he prepared for everything. He could smell the meat in the bag that only now seemed appetizing. That's how it was. He would change back after the night and have cravings for anything with blood. Grayson took the meat out of the mini cooler in his bag and ripped into it savagely until the packaging was licked completely clean.

Ethan had put the pants on and stared at Grayson as he ate his way into a meat package and slurped it all up raw. Part of him was disgusted and telling him to do what was right and put Grayson out of his self-guilt misery. The other, more selfish part of him said this is your twin brother and no matter what you take care of him, you asshat.

Ethan knew he couldn't live without Gray.

Grayson dropped the plastic packaging, went back into his duffle and pulled out wet wipes to clean himself up. He took special care of wiping his face from the mess of meat blood.

"Gray?" Ethan said softly, trying to break Grayson out of his own self-appointed guilt. "Talk to me."

But Grayson shook his head, finding that he was too horrified to even form words, and Ethan got up, following him as Grayson threw the duffle over his shoulder and made his way out of the woods.

Ethan walked a few paces behind Grayson as they made their way back to the house. He milled over the fact that Grayson was now a werewolf-a werewolf that seemed to have an odd affection towards Ethan in general-and that he hadn't told him. Part of him felt so sad that his twin didn't tell him, another part of him was angry. But he knew everything was going to be okay. One had to be an optimist in this world.

But Grayson had become mad at him. He could see it in his tensed-up shoulders.

He wasn't completely sure why. Ethan had given Grayson's beast what it wanted with minimal consequences. It didn't even hurt that bad.

As if the world knew he was lying to himself and telling him no, Ethan tripped over a root protruding from the ground. Grayson looked back to see Ethan on the forest floor looking like a pouting child before he pushed himself up and walking on faster.

Grayson turned around to hide his smile and thought of why he was mad again. He didn't want to be happy yet. He wanted to be mad and yell at Ethan when they got back to their house and ask him what the hell he was thinking.

They continued their tense silence until Ethan unlocked the door and they slipped inside.

\---

The first thing Ethan did was plop down on his bed and get comfortable. Grayson stood at the threshold of his bedroom.

"If you fall asleep, I will drag you out of that bed," Grayson growled.

Ethan sighed heavily. "And so it begins."

"Why in the hell did you think it was okay to get close? I told you to stay away!" he yelled.

In Grayson's mind, Ethan had practically thrown himself at him. Didn't he realize that he could've slaughtered him?!

Ethan rolled on his back and subtly traced the scratches on his arm. "You were going to hurt yourself. I think you already did. Take off your shirt, I wanna see it."

Grayson rolled his eyes. "You're worried about my injuries?! I pretty much...I raped you! I could've bitten you! I could've killed you!"

For a long moment they just studied each other. Grayson looked like was going to cry: he looked like he was just as much angry as distressed. His face turned flushed and he couldn't look him in the eyes.

"You didn't rape me, Grayson. It's okay." He said softly, "It isn't the first time I've been with someone like that."

Grayson visibly flinched and turned away from his gaze. He felt the wolf's jealousy twist his chest uncomfortably.

"You don't understand what you've done. The beast inside me thinks you're its mate, E. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't know. You gonna propose or something?" Ethan tried to lighten the mood, "I know it's weird. I just...I don't know. I love you. It isn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?!" Grayson reeled. I love you. The words echoed in his mind. But...did Ethan love him like he loved him? He must've. Why wonder he was so chill about this whole situation.

"I mean," Ethan shrugged. "You're a werewolf now. It wasn't you're fault. 'Kay, wolfman? Stop yelling. Don't make me get the muzzle."

"This isn't funny! Why aren't you freaking out?" Grayson demanded.

Ethan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "You haven't killed anyone, right?"

Grayson turned to face Ethan again. "No, but–"

"Then you're doing everything right. There's nothing to freak out about, but I think there are more comfortable ways to keep yourself locked up." Ethan walked over to Grayson and started to strip off his shirt. "I just wanna see it."

Grayson looked into the darkness of Ethan's eyes, at his black eyelashes, his full lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Ethan glanced up at him, "It's okay. Gray. Really."

Grayson let him strip off his shirt and tried not to move too much. Dark red, purple, and black marks littered his entire abdomen. "Fuck, Gray! Have you tried cushioning the chains somehow?"

"I figured if it's painful enough, it would stop trying to get away," Grayson whispered.

Ethan pushed his hand into the most irritated area making Grayson gasp in pain and step back. His eyes burst with yellow light, losing control for a split moment until Ethan's voice tethered him back to reality once more.

"It looks like pain triggers it," Ethan said. "From now on, I'm going to be there during your changes. Six days left now, right? I-I don't mind being with you."

Grayson's mouth dropped open and he shook his head quickly. "Are you listening to yourself?! You basically just told me to give the beast some slack and let it torture you. No!"

"I liked it," he muttered, glancing away. He really liked it. He had always loved Grayson and, well, it hadn't been bad. He had orgasmed...hard.

"But you took it out of fear," Grayson pointed out. Ethan just kept his attention on the dark bruises and grooves on Grayson, tracing them lightly with his fingers. "Now that you've seen mine, show me yours."

"What?" Ethan looked confused.

"Let me see the damage I've done," Grayson insisted. "Take your pants off."

Ethan was about to argue, but when he looked into Grayson's eyes, he didn't feel like challenging him. He shucked off the sweatpants and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

"Bend over," Grayson ordered.

Even though it wasn't specifically sexy or kinky sounding, Ethan's cock still twitched with light interest. Grayson's nostrils flared, but he didn't otherwise say anything. Ethan did as he was told, bending over his bed. Grayson spread his cheeks and examined the irritated and swollen flesh. He was angry for causing something so brutal.

He was absolutely disgusted with himself.

But Ethan was still telling him everything was okay.

His fingers traced the bruises and scabs on Ethan's hips from Grayson's claws and iron grip. He turned away, overwhelmed by the sudden lust in the air and headed straight to the shower. The scent of Ethan's pheromones were making his beast feel desperate to help satisfy its mate. Grayson felt his nails lengthen and his eyes turn, a growl seeping through his clenched teeth.

"What the hell, Gray?" Ethan yelled as he put the sweats back on. He appeared in the doorway to see Grayson standing under the spray of the shower head, eyes closed and fists clenched.

"Stay back!" Grayson pleaded. "You're triggering it. Why do you have to be so damn horny all the time?"

Ethan just stood awkwardly for a moment. "Is the water necessary?"

"It helps me control it," Grayson said as he glanced down at the claws on his fingers with still glowing eyes.

"Or at least it used to." He shot a bittersweet smile at Ethan.

"I haven't been this out of control since the first time I changed," he breathed out, barely audible over the sound of the water pressure.

Ethan stepped into the bathroom, hesitated for a moment, and then continued to walk toward Grayson.

"You know, I don't mind you losing control with me."

He steeped under the spray next to Grayson, barely fitting the both of them under the small amount of shower space given.

All Grayson could smell was Ethan and all he could hear was Ethan's heartbeat wildly thumping in his ears.

A silent agreement went between them and Grayson grabbed Ethan by the waist and hoisted him up effortlessly with a small growl. Ethan wrapped his legs around Grayson's hips and rocked against him. Grayson couldn't believe how good it felt to give in and let himself just feel Ethan.

There was one moment of hesitation where neither Grayson nor Ethan could remember what came next. Grayson fisted the back of Ethan's shirt where he was holding him up and tore the skin clinging tee in two, throwing each piece aside for later worries. Ethan looked into Grayson's predatory gaze and saw the sheer desire in his darkening yellow irises.

Ethan pulled Grayson down for a surprising but forceful kiss. It was fierce and dominant, and Grayson responded, making animal noises that Ethan assumed meant pleasure. Grayson pulled away and tried to speak over his growling.

"Bite me," he murmured.

Ethan leaned forward and brushed his teeth over the skin of Grayson's neck and clamped them hard enough to bruise. Grayson groaned and rocked his hips faster. "Harder," he demanded. Ethan sank his teeth into Grayson's flesh, tasting blood. Grayson made a long, drawn-out growling noise and Ethan knew he had came.

Grayson continued to thrust his hips against Ethan, riding out his orgasm. His knot swelled in his pants at the base of his cock, but it deflated much faster than when it was inside him.

Ethan leaned back against the tile wall of the shower while Grayson still held him up and pulled his cock out of his soaked pants. It only took a few strokes to get him to come, thick ropes covering his hand, Grayson's stomach and his own chest. Grayson leaned down and licked his mate's chest and hand clean.

All Grayson could think was mate as he lapped at his bare flesh, feeling Ethan's warm skin, his hand thrusted into his hair.

What was on his stomach he let wash away in the water.

Grayson lowered Ethan back down and the latter turned away to turn the water off.

Again, Grayson experienced relief so intense that he almost felt human again. He felt the beast ease away, satisfied for the time being.

When Ethan turned back around to face Grayson, he was relieved to see familiar brown eyes looking back at him. He saw the bloody mark on Grayson's neck and saw other thin scars that he'd never noticed before. They were all bite marks. Ethan suddenly realized exactly how Shelly had turned him.

"You told her to bite you, didn't you?" he asked aloud.

Grayson covered the newest, most profound scar on the opposite side of his neck-Ethan's bite. Ethan didn't realize how ridiculous he looked with his pants pulled down just far enough for his dick to hang out while he breathed like he'd just run a marathon, body and clothes (what little he had left on) both dripping wet.

"I would have told you, but it honestly wasn't the first thing I thought of when she showed me what she was," Grayson tried to explain.

"It's okay, Gray. Everything's going to be alright," Ethan assured him.

Grayson stepped out of the shower and shed himself of the soiled pants he had on. "They'll kill me, E. They'll hunt me down," he looked back up at him, "Nobody can know."

Grayson left Ethan alone in the bathroom to ponder those thoughts as he tossed himself into his bed, still wet, but uncaring. He was exhausted and he wanted to sleep. He wasn't really surprised when Ethan slid in right next to him.

"Just here for the warmth, you had the shower on freezing," Ethan explained.

Grayson snorted.

"Whatever gets you through the night."

"I love you," Ethan whispered against the shell of his ear after a moment, his hand curling around his back, fingers dancing over his skin gently.

"I love you too," Grayson admitted, softly. That was the last thing he said before he felt himself drifting off to sleep, Ethan's lips grazing his cheek.

***

Grayson woke up what felt like just minutes later, but sleep during his lunar cycle always felt that way. Dreamless and restless. He felt Ethan's warm body just inches from his own. Grayson looked at the clock on his bed stand and shot out of bed, realizing how late it was. It was too late.

He had minutes before he changed.

"E, wake up!" Grayson told him urgently as he threw himself at his duffel bag and found the chain and padlocks.

Ethan looked startled by Grayson's frantic movements.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I should've set an alarm or something," Grayson muttered to himself. "It's my fault and now I've screwed everything to hell."

"Grayson, stop and tell me what's going on," Ethan demanded.

Grayson looked back at the time again, not that he needed it. He could feel the beast getting impatient within him, waiting to claw its way out.

"I'm about to change. We slept too long and now there's no time to get to the woods. I need you to chain me to the bed."

It should have been awkward because they were both still naked, but Ethan didn't feel that way as he used each end of the chain liked hand cuffs and locked them to the headboard. He made sure he put cloth in between Grayson's skin and the chain so he wouldn't bruise so bad.

The change started quickly after that. Grayson pulled at his restraints as he writhed in pain. He tried to stay quiet so the neighbors didn't know what was going on, that there were no noise complaints, but as the beast took over Grayson was growling and yowling, arching his back away from the mattress, and just trying to get to Ethan who had stood back and watched patiently. He slipped lubricant from one of Grayson's drawers.

When Grayson didn't appear to be in pain anymore, Ethan approached the bed. He squirted the lube over his fingers as he climbed over Grayson who had gone still, wondering what Ethan was up to. Ethan ran one hand soothingly up Grayson's thigh while the other gently touched Grayson's hole and slowly slipped his index finger inside.

He expected the beast to thrash at the discomfort, but to his surprise, the beast figured out immediately that he had no control over the situation like he did last time and fighting would only make him more uncomfortable.

"You need someone to teach you that you can't always be the alpha male, Gray. Right now, I'm the Alpha and you will submit to me," Ethan said as he thrusted his fingers in and out of Grayson, adding more fingers quickly.

He didn't have much resistance and wasn't showing signs of being in pain.

Grayson watched Ethan from within too. He felt the slight burn more than the beast did, but didn't fight it. Ethan brushed his prostate earning himself desperate whimpers and groans and suddenly Grayson was fucking himself down on Ethan's fingers. Ethan smiled softly as he twisted his fingers in Grayson, watching the beast open its mouth with a silent moan.

Grayson had grown hard quickly, cock curling against his stomach. Ethan had never seen a more attractive sight.

"Man, Gray, you're beautiful. Even like this."

Grayson showed no sign of acknowledgement toward the words, just kept keening and whimpering.

"You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

Still no human response.

He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with the head of his ready member.

"I love you, Gray," he said seriously, watching his face.

Ethan pushed in slowly at first, but the beast below him didn't want slow. It wanted rough and hard. He steadied Grayson's hips and lifted them up a bit for better access. Grayson closed his eyes as Ethan started a rough rhythm that had him writhing within seconds.

Ethan knew he didn't have long. The wolf's groaning and growling noises of pleasure were coming closer together and Ethan knew it wouldn't take very long before he was coming. He tried to just focus on feeling as he thrusted in and out of a wolfed out Grayson. Then Grayson was baring his neck for him.

He leaned down, lips over the bite he'd made earlier and whispered, "I told you you'd submit. You're too easy, Gray." And then he bit down over the exact same mark.

Grayson came with a sharp yowl. The bite was almost always a direct way to get him to orgasm. Ethan licked at Grayson's bloody wound and smiled against it.

"Too easy, Gray," he repeated. He pulled out of Grayson and immediately went to work to get Grayson hard again.

Ethan took Grayson's oversensitive cock and stroked it quickly. His mouth trailed down to his chest where he nibbled and nipped on one of Grayson's nipples. "Is that all you got?"

Ethan was proud when Grayson started getting hard again already.

He strattled Grayson's hips, opened the lube bottle again, and slicked Grayson up before he quickly sank down on him. Ethan's breath hitched at the burn and discomfort. Having absolutely no prep was something he was going to have to get used to if he kept this up. He rolled his hips sharply making Grayson throw his head back. Grayson's hips kept jerking, trying to have some say so in the way Ethan was moving and finally Ethan fell forward, kissing and nibbling at Grayson's skin and letting Grayson's hips move freely.

The beast thrusted into Ethan with everything it had. Ethan gritted his teeth against the slight pain and cried out when his prostate was brush, chasing away the burn. He gasped and sat up again wanting to feel the knot swell inside him and tie them together. It wasn't long before he got what he wanted.

"Oh, God Gray!" he screamed as the knot pushed against his sweet spot in just the right way. He came shouting Grayson's name and collapsing over his chest.

Grayson felt the beast come; the intensity of the orgasm shook his entire being. The beast fell still with small rolls of his hips, using Ethan to milk its knot dry.

Ethan breathed heavily for a few minutes before looking up at Grayson's face. Curious yellow eyes glowed back at him. A smirk spread on Ethan's face. "I gotta say, I kinda like that knot of yours," he whispered and rocked his hips a little for emphasis.

Grayson's chest rumbled with a soft growl of acknowledgement that sounded close to a purr. Ethan rested his head in the crook of Grayson's neck, taking in the scent of him. When Grayson's knot finally deflated, Ethan moved off Grayson and nuzzled into his side comfortably.

-

It was the first time Grayson woke up human after a change where he didn't feel hungry. Ethan slept soundly beside him, snoring softly. His wrists were still bound, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He wanted to wrap himself around his mate and get lost in his unique scent.

Grayson didn't want to admit it, but in the depths of his mind he had accepted whatever it was he and Ethan had now. As long as Ethan let him, Grayson would let the beast satisfy itself.

It would be just he and Ethan, just like it had always been.

Together. Forever.


	3. Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson is a notorious werewolf hunter. When he slips up on a hunt, the werewolf who captures him wants more than just a taste of his flesh.

3.

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson

-

Whose brilliant idea was it to make a safe house in the middle of a forest surrounded by trees and not a streetlight for literally miles?

Unless by chance there's some hikers around, the hunter's screams could barely cut through the lumber walls. Instead, his lungs were left sore, dry, and burning.

There was truly no point in screaming anymore. Nobody could hear him anyway.

He wheezed, as if he just inhaled smoke, and chewed on his bottom lip to keep the air in his lungs for a few extra seconds, then exhaled sharply.

Don't risk an asthma attack. Oh, God. 

Grayson tilted his head back, the shine of the silver handcuffs reflected off the black center of his eyes. The pull light was like looking directly into the sun, and when he looked away, he was seeing spots.

"Ugh..." Grayson swallowed before he almost choked on his own nerves, then shook his head, making himself dizzy.

"I gotta get outta here..." Grayson whispered to nobody but himself: his throat was sore, so sore that when he flicked his tongue to feel it, a tear duct activates. Ouch.

Grayson dropped his head and tried relaxing every muscle, except his heart that was already steadily pacing in his chest. Given the situation, Grayson found the calmness unsettling.

Grayson pulled down on the handcuffs, but all it did was make him slide across the long steel bar, his hips swayed in a circle like he was trying to keep the ring of a hula-hoop from falling to the floor. His chest was bare and looked to be wounded. His neck and collarbones were covered in scratch marks. Maybe they were from the monster. Maybe they were caused by a sharp, jagged object like nails or teeth. Maybe a key digging into his skin. There are a few dried spots of deep crimson red to top it all off, but his face remains untouched.

If Grayson didn't know better, he'd think the monster wanted him to stay pretty for when he carves out his chest with his teeth, chewing on his intestines, properly eating him up.Yet, even with the muscle caged around fingers, it would still be a steady beat for the beast to feel.

But the fear before it is crushed in a fist, he'll see that on Grayson, he'll see every line and vain surface in his face as he screams for his life.

Sadistic fucker.

The thought that this monster could find pleasure in Grayson's suffering, forced him to let out a breath, trying to control his anger. His fear. His hatred for the beast that wears a human face. Evil never prevails, except, when it does.

The werewolf hunter swayed side to side, chain scraping across metal with nowhere else to go.

\---

It wasn't a warm summer, and Grayson's bones began to chill as the night drags out, temperature dropping. Grayson's teeth started to chatter, his lips were dried and cracked, he panted for water but all he got was his salivary glands. He pushed on the back of his teeth with his tongue to collect the saliva. It was not water, couldn't clench his thirst like some sweet juice or a cold glass of tea (please, I'm so thirsty...) would do. He was parched and cranky. And on top of that, the house was empty and cold; there was no other body but his to keep it warm. It did no good. All the blood-flow to his arms had dropped below the socket and they felt like jelly, what little left he could feel of them. He had to look up every so often to remind himself the suckers were still attached and ready to punch somebody square in the jaw given the chance.

Grayson Dolan never goes down without a fight...

Grayson's eyes scanned the room for anything he could use as leverage, a sturdy chair he could stand on, a loose nail in the wooden floorboards he could use to pick the lock or maybe even get really lucky and find a hammer in reach.

Grayson is great with a hammer. He's a great builder in general...

But instead, there was a wooden chair that the termites made their dinner, no board in the floor was loose so there was no nail, and replaced with what could have been the convenience of a hammer—glasses. Empty glasses. The rusted logo taunted the werewolf hunter. And yet, a hunk of glass can't laugh, can't make fun of him, but he hears something laughing at how pathetic, helpless, and alone he looked.

He knew he was alone. He knew he must have looked helpless and pathetic.

All he could think about was the beast coming back for him.

\---

Soon, he hears it.

He heard the rumbling of an engine that couldn't be mistaken as any other car.

It was his baby blue sports car. His car, the one he loved so much, the one he got customed painted because he loved blue so much.

He listened to her loud purr as she pulled up into the driveway.

Grayson could detach himself and close his eyes, imagine himself insider her, foot pressed onto the gas pedal, twisting the key to light her up.

But it was not him, it was some other man—some other monster in his spot, another dirty ass on the seat, stroking the wheel, rubbing the dashboard, treating the car so good...

Dammit!

Grayson felt betrayed to think any other man could make his Porsche purr like that behind the wheel.

That was his car.

Then he felt the burning of the silver cuffs against his wrists and the burning in his cheeks at the realization he really had no say in the matter. Not now.

He'll kill him.

But just as Grayson was about to charge at the door, the cuffs reminded him his wrists would snap.

Then the purring stops. Just like that. But it's Grayson turn for his heart to start pounding even quicker in his chest.

Oh, no.

He closes his eyes tightly at the sounds of footsteps ascending, moving. Stomp, stomp, stomp...

Control yourself, Gray. He thinks to himself. He let out a breath and his heartbeat quickly slowed, his breaths becoming even. It's nothing like an asthma attack (thank God).

Footsteps, footsteps sounded, wooden boards creaked which belong to the stairs that lead up to the front porch.

Then the key slid into the door, it unlocked, and the doorknob twisted open. He was afraid of what was behind it, the dark, looming figure that laughs in the doorway.

He was afraid, his heartbeat still steady, but he was afraid, vibrating with tension.

The dark figure stepped into the house and dropped a set of paper bags on the table, not even causing the glass vase to tip so they must have not been very heavy, a few vegan cheeseburgers and dairy free milk strawberry milkshakes weren't heavy.

But when those bags dropped to Grayson the whole house rumbled, or maybe that was his bones...

Then the keys were thrown on the table, barely making a sound. It was but a small clatter.

To Grayson, it was a ringing in his head. He jerked away from the sound, thinking he could escape his own mind. He couldn't.

"You're still here." The voice said, a sense of relief in its tone. "'Miss me?"

Grayson pretended not to hear it, not to hear him. He knew the tricks, small talk allows the monster to get into his head and he wasn't about to let that happen.

"Oh, don't pout."

There were more footsteps and the shadow was moving closer until he finally came into the light. Grayson wouldn't look at him.

He refused.

Grayson shut his eyes. He knew he was right there, only breathing a distance away; he could feel his hot breath on his neck and the beast growling in his ear like his tongue got caught in his throat.

He felt eyes on his body, mentally undressing him, a glare so sharp it was carving into him like a knife.

"Look at me." Ordered the monster, jaw clenched.

Silence.

"I said, look at me." He repeated.

At first, Grayson fought it, the burning light that swayed above him made it easier to turn away.

But then, it just wasn't enough.

Grayson turned, he stared back at the monster, and if looks could kill, Grayson's heart would have stopped, his body would be limp, hanging from a metal bar. If looks could kill—Grayson would be dead.

Those glowing eyes were burned into his memory. They watched his every move, they loved the tremble of the hunter's lips.

Grayson was afraid but not afraid to scream. And yet he couldn't make a sound, just wheeze, and a faint whimper slipped, but no words; his eyes shot open, he stepped back, wincing at the splinters in his heels.

The monster reached out for Grayson but not for a hug. It wasn't anything welcoming as it was a forceful tug.

Grayson felt fingers dig into his ribs and as the terror sets in, there's also a weird sensation that comes with it, the kind of literal knee jerk reaction, like a reflex.

"Tsk—" Grayson drops his head; he's supposed to be scared, pissing himself if anything...not...giggling.

(Shit, Grayson! Keep it together!)

"N—...not there..." He choked back the sounds.

The monster didn't listen. Instead, he dug his fingertips deeper into Grayson's ribcage, until it became like handles to push and pull.

Grayson screamed loudly.

And now the monster has his full undivided attention.

The beast's hunger was evident in his growls, and he's almost drooling. Grayson was close enough to see it practically pooling over his bottom lip.

"I was hoping someone would come looking for you. I thought Grayson Dolan would have known better than to come alone. I had a little ambush waiting for them, now it goes to waste." The monster growled again.

"Guess I'm just that popular," Grayson replied sarcastically.

The monster smiled, more of a grin really, and he finally let go of Grayson, allowing his body to sway again.

Only for a second, until he's up in Grayson's business, like their shoulders are magnetic, he's no longer touching him, just breathing hotly onto his neck, whispering incoherently.

All Grayson could make out was: "Mmm, It's just you and me..."

He said it like they were both at a party and everyone went home, only leaving them alone in an empty house that wasn't theirs, but nobody else claimed the place for the night.

And that makes it theirs.

And that remark makes every hair on Grayson's arm stand and his dick perk up.

What the hell?

Focus on anything else, go to a better place. Grayson couldn't focus on anything but the... smell.

Grayson could smell him. It's not a bad smell, it's a nice one, sweet and something he can almost taste, every shampoo in existence all dumped into one bottle. It's like vanilla, like almond.

But the air smelled musty and moldy, a clear indicator that this house had been long since abandoned.

And ever since the monster got close, he could smell Grayson too, his skin smelt of fear, and something else... definitely something else...with blood present on Grayson's chest it should have reeked... but it didn't.

Grayson jerked away from the lips that pressed against his neck, but fingers wrap around the other side and pull him back.

Grayson didn't want to think about this monster's lips on his neck. There was no pain, but he wanted to be anywhere but there being violated against his own will. That's all Grayson had was his choice and now trussed up, he didn't even have that.

Still, he squirmed and fought it, he held onto what little bit of sanity he had for as long as he could.

"You're just a squirming mound of flesh to me. Continue to struggle. I'll lick the fear off your bones."

Grayson held his breath and froze.

"It tastes delicious." The beast purred lowly, sensually.

He's going to be eaten alive, the monster was going to devour him, with a face like that... the resemblance of a human, teeth of a predator tearing into his skin.

"Forget how to breathe, baby?" The monster hummed, voice softening oddly before he was growling.

"Here, let me remind you."

The monster ran his tongue up a popping vain and dug his teeth into Grayson's neck and that caused him to gasp for air, that hurt, and Grayson kicked and yelled.

Then Grayson had a voice again, it still faltered and cracked under the tension, but...

"Let me go!" He pleaded, betraying himself. He told himself he wouldn't beg, not to give the monster any satisfaction, but it was either that or get his throat ripped out.

Then the monster eased up.

Grayson's arms went limp, along with his shoulders when he felt the warm blood drip down to his collarbone. And yet, he relaxed. The monster steps back and wipes the blood off his chin with his sleeve. It was very little and left a small red stain that would take some soap to rub off, but not right now...

Right now, he does not care.

The werewolf's fingers curled into Grayson's waistband; his thumbs rustled with the hunter's belt buckle until it is undone suddenly. He pulls the leather off, slapping it on the floor.

Slap!

Grayson's heart leaped in his throat and his eyes snapped shut when he heard the sound.

Grayson kept his eyes sewn shut. He felt hands on him. They dug into his pants; there was a foot kicking the denim down to his ankles. He felt the breeze on his legs.

"J-Just let it be...be fast..." Grayson whispered. "Please..."

"No, I think I'll take my time." The monster rebelled.

Grayson felt those same hands curl around his cock and it jumped against the palm, leaking already.

"D-Didn't anybody ever tell you not to play with your food?" Grayson managed.

How Grayson could be cocky at a time like this was shocking in itself.

"Tastes better when you're scared. Your bones jittering beneath your skin, unsteady breathing, the little sounds you make." The beast's voice was deep and gravelly, resonating in Grayson's bones.

Grayson clenched his fist and he swallowed thickly. He gathered up enough courage to speak again.

"T-That's what I am? Your toy?"

"Yes." The monster purred.

"Argh, fuck you. Let me go!" Grayson bared his teeth, snarling.

The monster rolled his eyes. It's like Grayson forgot who the real monster was supposed to be.

He shucked off his shoes, and worked on the buttons to his shirt, no longer making eye contact with the snarling hunter.

"If it's fear you want, I won't give it to you."

"Of course, you will. You already have. As I undo each button, I can hear your heart pulsating, feel your blood running cold, hear your teeth chattering."

Grayson clenched his jaw to make himself stop, not realizing until the other mentioned it that his teeth were chattering at all.

Then...

The other's pants dropped to the floor. He steps out of the holes and walks circles around Grayson.

He stops right behind him.

"F-Fine, you want fear? I'll— I'm scared, hell, I'm terrified! I have no control, 'that what you want to hear? You can do whatever you want, and nobody could hear me, nobody could stop you. I'm fucking screwed."

"Mmm, that's better." The monster hummed, pleased.

"I got a reputation to keep, being a big bad wolf and all."

After that, the monster wasted no time in grinding against Grayson, slipping dangerously close.

The rough grinding caused a whine to bubble out of Grayson's throat.

"Look, look, look," comes Grayson's sharp breath. It's a threat; now it's no longer fear he felt so strongly but threatened; fear and terror were sidelined.

"I'll do... anything to have you not do this."

Grayson heard a familiar snap from behind him and he pants; he rapidly pants against nothing; he was in full panic mode. The monster wraps his hands around his own cock and twists it slick until it's dripping onto the wooden floor.

"Part your thighs."

The beast's voice now drips down the scale; it's dirty, like Grayson just signed up for unlimited minutes of phone sex. That's all it was: a voice. His head couldn't turn to put a face to it anymore.

"Part your thighs." The voice echoed.

"No." Grayson protested.

A pair of hands slid between Grayson's thighs, but he used every ounce of strength left in him to keep them shut, the struggle resembling a jammed elevator door.

"Don't try to fight it, Grayson." The monster warned, his voice foreboding what's to come if Grayson refuses to comply.

Grayson continued to fight it until the hands slid so far between his thighs, fingers dug into the other side for a firm grip and pried them open.

Grayson whimpered and whined before feeling something hot press against his thigh.

No, not that, please anything but that.

As much as Grayson's eyes screamed of terror, his cock bobbed in anticipation and Grayson should have hated his body for reacting differently like his sanity was in the winning middle of a tug of war.

A war between his thoughts and his flesh, begging for it, not so much for it to stop.

"Face it, no one will save you. You're all alone." The voice taunted. "You're all mine."

Grayson drops his head, tensing up, and fighting it one last time, but it wasn't enough...

Grayson lurched forward, feeling the head of this monster's cock pierce through. There's a string of nerves that twisted up his spine as he let out the smallest cry.

Tears threatened the corner of his eyes, almost flooding over his dark lashes as another bubble surfaced his throat.

"Fuck..."

The beast settles his monster cock inside of him, sliding it all the way in, until Grayson's head jerked back, shoulder cracked and strained. Just when Grayson thought that was all, it kept burying itself deep inside until Grayson felt himself bottom out. "Fuck..." he repeated, then tilted back again, so his head would soak up the tears.

Grayson's face was a perfect mixture of fear, shame, and arousal when the monster started to buck his hips into him. His eyes soon rolled back, and he shut them tightly.

"All you humans are good for are eating and fucking," the monster growled lowly. "How's it feel to no longer be at the top of the food chain?"

The monster lifted him a little to get a better view and slid his thumb inside, pumping it in, stretching the hunter more.

"Ah.. Ah hah..." Grayson pants. "No more... please..."

The monster slid his thumb out, then gave a good slap to Grayson's buttocks; he takes his hip, thrusting up.

"Ah!"

The chains rattled, the metal bar vibrated, Grayson's whimpering and cries echoed throughout the house.

"Please!" Grayson rambled incoherently...

"What was that?" The monster questioned, not letting up for a second. "Say it again."

"Y-You're huge..." the hunter admits shamefully with a hint of annoyance. "You're so huge..."

"Mm, good, but that's too bad, guess you'll have to take what I give you."

One thrust, one protest from Grayson: "No!"

A second, Grayson protested again. "Get out of me!"

A third, Grayson became more aggravated, more aggressive.

"I'll fuckin kill you, you asshole. 'Fucking kill y—Argh!" Grayson jerked.

The monster smiled when he pulled apart Grayson's cheeks to see how the body hugged his cock, how Grayson hugged his cock so invitingly.

The fit was tight to the monster. To him, Grayson was a body, just a body. He was not a person, not a soul, just a body good for two things. To eat or to fuck.

Grayson whimpered, head falling towards the floor, and he tried to wiggle out of the two hands that held on firmly to his hips, but the grip was impossible to break.

It's like the beast held onto Grayson's body like a life, yet he tried convincing the hunter his life was meaningless and effortless.

Grayson went limp against the chains, loosened up and let the thick invasion jab its way in and out of him, riling up his stomach.

Or maybe he was just getting a little hungry...

Grayson's cock twitched and leaked eagerly for a touch but didn't receive a palm.

Instead, the monster thrusts in using every bit of strength to make the human's body bounce, then slide back down on his cock.

Grayson felt the exhaustion settling in as he pounded away into him; his body already felt like jelly and his voice strained with every use, every protest; he played his part as the helpless hunter convincingly...

Until...

The 'monstrous' cock brushes against his sweet spot. Grayson let out a blissful sigh, followed by an "Ahhhh...!"

Grayson swayed his hips, hoping the monster will hit it again, make it go crazy, make him break himself, and sure enough that monster did.

"Yes... mmm," Grayson practically purred.

The monster's thighs continued to slap into Grayson's, flesh grinding into flesh, finding that spot for a third time and every bone in Grayson's body vibrates, a heat building in his stomach as that cock punches out a final cry...

"Ethan!" Grayson whined.

Ethan froze and the thrusting stopped just long enough for him to swat the back of Grayson's head.

That whack received a pained noise. Ouch, E.

"Ow!" He said annoyed as he tried looking over his shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For breaking character," Ethan grumbled, looking kind of pouty, letting go of Grayson's hips and cracking his knuckles.

"I did not!" Grayson shouted.

"You said my name."

"W—" Grayson realized he did. It was always such a natural response, he forgot it left his lips. "Well I— That's—"

"Uh-huh?" Ethan urged.

"Saying your name is like a reflex, I can't control that." Grayson admitted.

"No, you ruined everything." Ethan exaggerates, dramatically pulling out and taking back possession of his cock that Grayson's body was convinced it owned by now.

"What? I did not!" Grayson hissed.

"Did to." Ethan tapped his twin's ribs, then his fingers crept up to his neck. He bared his teeth and nails and jabbed them into Grayson's chest. "Always do."

"Fuck! Ow!" Grayson whined.

Ethan wasn't finished and proceeded to drag his nails down Grayson's skin softly; they catch at every curve and every spot his "claws" visit leaves rosy scratch marks; in a few spots blood beaded out of the flushed colored fresh.

Grayson yells. "Arghhhh!" And jerks his hips forward, almost pulling something. 

"So...since you ruined everything, I gotta ask. Are you bleeding? What's on your chest?" Ethan took his hands off and walked around to the front of Grayson, blowing air into his face, cooling him off a bit from how heated they got together. 

"I made a cherry pie. I kind of rubbed it on me." Grayson shamelessly admits. He really liked to get into character; he wanted to look hurt and beat up, like he's been mauled by the big bad wolf.

"So that's cherry pie? No wonder you smell so good." Ethan concludes after Grayson's confession, dipped his fingers into the red on Grayson's collarbone and leaned in for a taste.

"No, I smell good 'cus you're a blood thirsty werewolf and I'm a tasty meal for your convenience." Grayson reminded Ethan of his role just in case he forgot.

"Sure are, want to eat you up, little red." Ethan smirks into Grayson's neck, nipping and nibbling up until he reaches his jaw and gives it a bite.

"Fuck... someone will come for me. Gonna put your ass down, dog boy, hope you like silver bullets." Grayson playfully provokes.

"Don't matter, I'll have bred your ass already, fuckin ate you down to the bone." Ethan growls. "Fuck you...and suck your skin off, tear into that tough meat, make you scream for more."

Was Grayson breathing? Probably not. Ethan could really play a convincing role, Grayson guessed being such a profound influential YouTuber helped with the whole acting/roleplaying aspects of their lives.

"Oh, please, no." Grayson let out; to the room it sounded like a beg in protest, but for Grayson it was something entirely different. He hummed, twisting his wrists around the cuffs.

Ethan reached down for the keys and walked back over to Grayson, unlatching the cuffs as they clicked open.

Grayson's arms were asleep, he couldn't move them even a little, his eyes slowly closed in a worn state of mind and so he pretended to fall to his knees, but he didn't hear the jarring sound of them hitting the floor because two arms swooped in to catch him.

"You're my little human: sweet, battered, bruised, and beautiful." Ethan softly praised. "You'll never escape me."

Ethan clawed his fingers into Grayson's bottom lip and forced him to look up by knocking his chin.

"Oh..."

Grayson looked down and slowly opened his fist to reveal a silver shaved bullet.

"What's this...?"

"Oh NO!" Ethan gasped.

"Lights out, doggy." Grayson chuckled, and rammed the bullet into the "werewolf's" chest.

Ethan clutched his bare chest, pretending it struck his heart and collapsed on the floor, playing dead on the ground.

"Ethan, you good?" Grayson asked as he stood up, tilting his head, gazing down at the motionless body.

Ethan gave Grayson a thumbs up for assurance, and Grayson took that as his cue to go get washed up in the bath, but as he was walking, he felt something latch onto his ankle.

"Oh..." Grayson looked down. "Wait."

He paused.

The hand pulled on his ankle and caused him to trip, his back landing on the wooden floor and in the fall he ended up loosening a board. Grayson groaned lowly.

"Arghh... you're supposed to be DEAD, man!" He exclaimed pointedly.

Familiar warm brown eyes gazed down at him, and with a rebellious smile he took ahold of Grayson's ankle and dragged him across the wood, aiming for the bedroom.

"Ethan! Hey! Wait! Hold on! Wait! UNHAND ME, YOU BEAST!" Grayson faked a panic, waving his arms about, eyes widening rather theatrically.

"You're a horrible shot, wasn't even near my heart, dumbass." Ethan snorted. "Realistically I wouldn't be dead."

"You know what, Ethan? Bite me!" Grayson snapped, kicking and squirming as his hips slid across the wood.

"Huh, I think I will bite you, Gray." Ethan glanced over his shoulder and gave Grayson a flirtatious smirk and raise of his left eyebrow.

Grayson laughed, puffing up his chest and rolling on his stomach, pretending to fight the hand that holds him, dragging his fingers into the wood and receiving some splinters. He's ready to play.

"Oh... hohoho Oh NO! OH NO! HELP!"

Grayson took a breath, before repeating: "HELP!"

The "monster" drags him into the room, his ribs sliding across the floor until they meet the doorframe and the monster slams it shut.

All that can be heard passed that door is rustling and a flomp on the mattress, hysterical giggling erupts out the twins' throats as they silence each other with a few subtle kisses to the lips, neck, and shoulders.

\---

Then (not long after) came the screams, blood chilling screams spouted from behind a wooden door, one twin crying out like he wanted the world to hear them, because the "monster" got rough and hard on his body, digging and crushing his ribs as the monster laid on top of him, thrusts driving into his back.

So...whose brilliant fucking idea was it again to make a safe house in the middle of a forest surrounded by trees and not a street light for miles? Ethan thought of it first, but Grayson being the builder he was really set into the overall building of it. In secret, of course. Nobody needed to know about their little get-away. 

It was a special place in the deep foothills of the California wilderness for the Dolan twins to crash and play out whatever fantasy their hearts' desires.

Away from their L.A. home, always from all those pesky automatic doors, friends, and, of course, the neighbors.

It's just the two of them, this safe house is theirs, no real monsters could get in. (For example, crazy, entitled fans and pesky managers). The place was quiet, and it felt like it was centered in the middle of nowhere, so no-one could hear him scream, no one except his twin, just the way Grayson liked it.

\---

(Full) Summary: Or the one in which Grayson builds a cabin in the middle of the woods not only to get away from the stress of being a social media influencer and famous YouTuber, but to live out his fantasy of being the helpless victim to Ethan's ravenous big bad wolf. 

\---


	4. The Thrill of the Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson Dolan is a serial killer. Ethan has no idea until their twenty third birthday. Three days later he runs away.

4.

Ethan & Grayson, 23

Top Grayson, Bottom Ethan 

\-----

"Wish I may, wish I might  
Find my one true love tonight.  
Do you think that he  
Could be you?  
If I pray really tight,  
Get into a fake bar fight,  
While I'm walking down  
The avenue.  
If I lay really quiet,  
I know that what I do isn't right,  
I can't stop what I  
Love to do.  
So I murder love in the night,  
Watching them fall one by one they fight,  
Do you think you'll  
Love me too?

Baby, I'm a sociopath,  
Sweet serial killer.  
On the warpath,  
'Cause I love you  
Just a little too much.  
I love you just  
A little too much.

You can see me  
Drinking cherry cola,  
Sweet serial killer.  
I left a love note,  
Said you know I love,  
The thrill of the rush."

-Lana Del Rey, "Serial Killer" 

\---

Ethan doesn't know where he is.

He's lost track sometime after he crossed the border between South Dakota and Wyoming, but it doesn't really matter. One shitty, run-down motel room blurs into the next, the tacky decoration of one mixing up with the outdated one of those before it. He wishes he could've stayed with Jack, but there's no way. He's already endangered their friend by going there to begin with, no matter that he only stayed for an hour.

So, he's back to holding his thumb out next to the highway and waiting for someone to stop who isn't intimidated by his facial hair, the kind of jitteriness that one can see in his face, the way he moves. One may mix up pure cautiousness with dangerous malice.

Ethan sighs and closes his eyes. The window of the truck is cold against his temple, the country music filtering tinnily through the bad speakers not comforting. Even the truck's engine sounds wrong. The guy next to him breathes too loud and has to cough every five minutes, interrupting the silence between them with a rattling noise that sounds of too many cigarettes and lung cancer. The driver's cab smells of stale smoke and sweat, the small pine-shaped air freshener not enough to cover the stink. At least this guy hasn't started fondling him. Yet.

This all feels so wrong. He wants to go back, but he knows he can't. Wants to sit in worn leather seats with springs protesting under his weight, wants to hear Kid Cudi blasting from the Bluetooth speaker, wants to hear the 1960s turquoise Ford Bronco purr like a satisfied fat cat, wants to feel her vibrations chasing up his spine as she eats up the miles from their house to the university, wants to smell after shave and heated plastic and Grayson's cologne.

It smells like cool rain, like lychee. It's just Gray.

He wants to feel the presence of his brother, know he's there even when Ethan has his eyes closed, hear him hum and sing silently and a bit off-key to the song he's chosen. It's always Kid Cudi. Always. Almost obsessively. Almost.

But all this is history now. He can never go back, not since he fed his twin a cocktail of sleeping pills he swiped from a pharmacy and dropped into a cup of warm tea. Grayson didn't even see it coming. It was to sneak out of their room as soon as Grayson was knocked out. By the time Grayson woke up, Ethan was already in the next state.

"We're here, boy," the trucker says and Ethan startles. He must've dozed off. Outside, storefronts rush by, neon lit against the black backdrop of the night sky.

He's not a boy, but the man's old enough to be his grandfather. Plus, he was kind enough to give him a ride without groping him halfway through. That's a plus in Ethan's book.

"Welcome to Riverton," chuckles Billy with his rough voice. Or was Billy the one before? Ethan can't remember. It's not like it's important anyway. In the beginning he still tried to make conversation, talk a bit with the Billys and Johnnys and Jimmys that were nice enough to pick up the young hitchhiker holding out his thumb next to the highway or gas station. By now the faces have started blurring together like the motel rooms, a fucked-up slide show of him running from the only home he ever knew.

From the only person he's ever loved. Truly loved. Loved completely, flesh and bone. Shared DNA. Carbon copy.

BillyJohnJimmy turns the truck onto a gas station and brings it to a halt next to a pump. Ethan jumps out and throws his duffel over his shoulder, walking around the truck to shake hands with the truck driver and say goodbye. The guy offers him a grin, showing off his yellow teeth.

"Thanks," Ethan says and smiles weakly. The guy nods and claps Ethan's shoulder.

"No problem, boy. Take care."

Ethan walks off, looking for the next run-down motel. The night is cold, and when he tips his head back, he can see a couple stars. He wonders where to go next, wraps his arms around himself. Somewhere warm would be nice.

\---

Grayson knows he should've killed the fucking dog as soon as the mutt starts barking.

Grayson has always hated dogs.

Maybe it has something to do with being allergic to them, but all Grayson has even thought dogs were good for was target practice.

Great. He ducks behind one of the rusty cars on the scrap yard as soon as the porch door bangs open, Jack's silhouette black against the light pouring out into the night.

"Brandy," he barks, and the mutt falls silent with a last bark of his own. Jack takes a step forward, Grayson can see his head turning as he's looking for him, but most of the scrap yard is painted in darkness, the ruins of salvaged cars throwing too many shadows, no light being offered by moon or stars. Grayson recognizes the shape of the sawed-off in Jack's hands immediately.

His friend is smart. His friend knows how to use a firearm. He knows what Grayson is, knows what he wants.

The irony does not allude him: he's the same young man that fixed up that 1960s Bronco Ford for Ethan. Ethan had given it to him. It was a surprise for their 20th birthday. Grayson had been so surprised, so happy.

"Come on out, Grayson. I know you're here."

Grayson stays where he is, unmoving; the gun is a reassuring weight in his hands. He watches Jack on his porch. From inside, the sound of the running TV is drifting out, disturbing the silence of the night. There's studio applause, muffled. Brandy grunts and huffs, chain clinking as he paces.

Grayson could easily shoot Jack from here. He already has him in his sights. One bullet, and the man (betrayer, danger!) would be history. His finger twitches.

"He's long gone, Grayson," Jack calls into the darkness where Grayson is hiding. "I dunno where he went, but even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

There's a protectiveness in Jack's voice that sets Grayson's teeth on edge.

There's a side mirror resting on the passenger seat inside the car Grayson is crouching behind. He reaches through the open window and grabs it, throws it to the other side of the yard, where it bounces off a car and lands in the gravel. Brandy starts barking again, pulling on his chain in an attempt to reach the origin of the noise. Jack curses and calls the mutt's name, but he won't stop barking. While they're both distracted, Grayson moves. Hidden in the shadows of another car, around it, to the side of the porch and up. Jack is still squinting at the dark scrap yard, doesn't hear Grayson coming over Brandy's barking and his own mumbled curses.

When he finally notices, it's too late. Grayson can see Jack's shoulders tensing, his head turning halfway, his eyes widening, barrels of the sawed-off raising to aim at Grayson's chest. Grayson is faster, brings the gun down hard on Jack's temple, and he collapses into a heap of loose limbs, sawed-off clattering to the ground. Grayson stands over him, chest heaving. He doesn't like to do this, but Jack's a stubborn asshole, and there's nothing he wouldn't do for Ethan.

Ethan, who's gone, lost, who ran away. Ran away. From him.

Ethan, Ethan, Ethan, his E. His twin brother E. E is his, Grayson's, since the day they were born, ever since the day that they pressed their hands against a mirror, side by side, and realized that they looked the exact same, despite minor deviations in facial structures, moles in different places. Barely different at all, at least on the outside. Grayson knew then that they would always be together. He and E. Forever. He'd protect him, keep him safe. And he did.

Until now.

He fucked up, but he can fix it, he's sure. He'll find E soon enough, and nobody, not even Jack, will stand in his way.

Grayson kicks the sawed-off away, watches it being swallowed by the shadows outside of the ring of light around them. Brandy is still barking.

"Shut up!" he yells, but the mutt won't. Grayson heaves a sigh, looks at Jack's limp form. There's blood running from his temple into the dark blond hair, turning it dark and sticky. He doesn't look like he's gonna come to soon. Grayson clicks his tongue and kicks Jack's foot to make sure. There's no reaction.

He can't help the grin twisting the corners of his mouth, showing off his teeth.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," he tells Brandy as he climbs from the porch, bends over to pick up a discarded crowbar. The gravel crunches under his feet as he walks towards the barking mutt.

"But if you don't wanna listen..."

\---

It started innocently enough. Looking back now, Ethan thinks of course he should've seen it sooner, but hindsight and all that.

But then again, Grayson has always been very protective of him, threatening to beat up bullies and so on. And he did. By the time they had started high school, the bullying was pretty bad. It didn't help that Grayson had started puberty before him and was bigger and stronger all of a sudden. Like, overnight he grew four inches and Ethan was left wondering why the hell nature can let one twin go through puberty before the other, especially when all the milestones they hit were at the same time up until then.

Some of his peers would say Grayson was more handsome too, although the girls would never admit that because whatever allure Grayson had was clouded by the defensiveness in which he held himself. Not hitting puberty at the same time was tough for E. That was yet another thing that he got compared with: his brother. That was hard, especially since Ethan didn't fight back. He'd rather ignore it. The teasing, the mocking, the lack of self-confidence perpetuated by other people. He blocked it out, ignored them, read a book. Hid in the bathroom and at the back of the class. Grayson, on the other hand, was exceptionally aggressive with whomever messed with them, especially when they messed with Ethan.

Ethan wondered why people liked to try to bully them. He eventually chalked it up to Grayson being so, well, crazy. Mean. Loud. Vindictive.

Ethan thought people saw twins as this kind of strange abnormality. Even their parents treated them weird, like they were one person instead of two. It didn't help that Grayson and Ethan didn't have any other siblings; it was just them. Of course, they looked at each other as wholly unique individuals, not carbon copies. In reality, they really weren't like each other all that much, despite being identical. But being twins people thought that whatever Grayson did was reflected back on him, like he was his brother's keeper. If anything, he was not his twin.

Ethan should've seen it.

There were the memoires. The memories of Grayson out in the wheat field behind the house, killing the little newborn kittens in the barn. Of course, they couldn't prove it was him. But Ethan knew. He felt it. And even way back when they were young, he knew something wasn't quite right. Ethan sat crying; Grayson would try to comfort him.

"I didn't mean to kill the bugs, E!"

He had stomped all over the ant hill that Ethan had been staring at, had been feeding sugar cubes to for days, watching it grow. If Grayson would've known Ethan liked them so much, he wouldn't have killed them.

Grayson was exceptionally protective.

But he went above and beyond that.

When Ethan came home, throwing his book bag down on the bed beside his, and told Grayson of a girl he found cute the first time, Grayson told him to not even try, since they'd leave soon enough anyway and there was no point in trying to score.

That wasn't true.

Their parents were in the military, so they moved around a lot. House to house. State to state. They had been in New Jersey for a long time, though. Since they were ten. They were fifteen then. Ethan really felt like they weren't going to move for a while.

And she...she was so cute. And sweet. Big brown eyes. A soft smile. Smelled like cherries and fresh linen. Real fruity, real clean.

Back then, Ethan had listened, however. He took his suggestion to mind. Because he thought it's Grayson, and Grayson is usually right. He hadn't questioned his advice, even though Grayson didn't even go after any of the girls. Never had. Never had a girlfriend.

So, Ethan agreed that they'd be bachelors together (it didn't really seem right that he got to have the girl if Grayson's didn't have somebody to love him too) and that was that.

For at least a year.

By the time Ethan was sixteen, he'd had his first kiss, but nothing that went further. No clumsy fumbling under the bleachers, no long make-out sessions in the janitor's closet. It was like he'd been cursed, because every time he'd shown an interest in one girl or another, sooner or later they'd turn their backs on him. They'd ignore him completely, even going as far as leaving the room as soon as Ethan came in, all but running past him in the hallways. It was frustrating, to say the least, but Grayson teased him often about how he was too quiet, and girls really weren't into the quiet types.

It was only later that he found out what was really going on.

Unsurprisingly, high school girls are easily scared off when the deranged identical twin of their crush shows up on their doorstep and tells them in great detail what he's going to do to them if they ever so much as talk to his brother again.

\---

Ethan's phone rings when he's in Brigham City, Utah. It's a new phone, he's thrown the other away, and only Jack has his number for emergencies. As expected, the number on the display is Jack's and he doesn't even hesitate before he picks up.

"Yes?" he asks and throws a t-shirt into his duffel, already packing because he knows Jack wouldn't call him unless it's important. Most likely, he wants to warn him about Grayson coming after him. He said he'd keep taps on him.

Jack knows.

Ethan told him. It's selfish. But he had to tell somebody. He trusts Jack.

"Ethan."

Ethan freezes.

The voice is whiskey-smooth, deep, familiar like no other. It trickles like water from the speaker, down his neck, the curve of his spine, making the fine hairs on his skin stand up in its wake. It's the voice Ethan will never forget, the voice he'll always connect to the only home he's ever had, no matter how far he runs.

It never sounds like his own voice. Never. Even on recordings. He can tell it's Grayson's.

"Gray." The word is a choked whisper of hurt and fear. And maybe something else. Maybe.

Grayson picks up on it immediately, and his voice changes from relieved to worried, almost frantic. As if he doesn't know why Ethan is running. As if he doesn't know Ethan is running from him.

"Ethan, are you okay? Where are you?"

Ethan shakes his head to clear it. The plastic case of the phone protests beneath his squeezing fingers.

"What did you do to Jack, Gray!"

"Nothing," Grayson sounds almost offended, but now that Ethan knows what happened, what Grayson did—

"I don't believe you, Gray. Is he still alive?"

Having to ask makes Ethan want to throw up. The thought Grayson could've killed or even hurt Jack feels like a knife to the gut. But now, now that he knows, there is nothing he wouldn't put past Grayson.

There's a deep sigh on the other end of the line. It sounds irritated.

"He's just...sleeping," Grayson assures, and Ethan takes a deep breath, feels at least some of the tenseness let go of his shoulders, but his heart is still hammering away in his chest.

His voice is shaky when he says, "Leave him alone, Grayson. He knows nothing. I didn't tell him anything."

Grayson laughs. It's so familiar. Almost comes at you. So bright. Painfully so. It makes Ethan shudder, his stomach twist into knots. How could he ever have thought he knew his brother when he had no idea of this darkness beneath the handsome surface, hidden behind the cocky smile, perfect white teeth, and his beefy frame, light brown eyes, and a confident swagger.

"Oh, trust me, he knows. Maybe not where you are, but he knows everything else. Or at least he put two and two together, E," Grayson tells him.

Ethan's shaking.

"And if I just go now and do nothing, I'll have the cops on my ass by tomorrow."

Ethan's knees turn to jelly and he sinks onto the bed, slumps forward, elbows propped up on his knees, heel of his free hand rubbing against his forehead.

"Please," he begs, voice breaking. There's silence on the other end.

"Please, Gray," more frantic now. "Don't hurt him, okay. I—I'll tell you where I am, okay? You can come here, pick me up and then we'll go somewhere where they won't find us, alright? Just. Leave Jack alone. He knows nothing, I promise. Take the phone with you and come here. I won't run anymore."

Finally, there's Grayson's voice. It's softer. Eager. "Promise?"

Ethan swallows, nods even though Grayson can't see him.

"Yeah, Grayson, I promise."

Another silence, then, "Okay, stay where you are and wait for me."

"Yeah, Grayson, I'll do that."

Ethan stares for half an hour at the ugly 70's wallpaper of his motel room before he calls Oliver.

\---

The girl Ethan asked out for the school dance was murdered.

To his surprise she'd said yes, and Ethan never felt so happy. Exuberated. Suddenly, the sky seemed bluer, the grass greener. It was their senior year of high school. For a few days he didn't tell Grayson, knowing that he didn't want to make his brother feel bad for not having a date himself. He'd promise him that they would go together with a group of friends. He told Grayson once he got out of the shower, having got the courage up. He didn't want to hurt him. Grayson had smiled, said something along the lines of, "Way to go, E. That's great."

"You're not mad?" Ethan asked.

Grayson gave him a peculiar look, "Me? No, bro. That's fuckin' awesome. I'm happy for you."

And Grayson smiled at him in that closed mouth smile of his, sitting on the bed across from Ethan's and pulling on his cotton night shirt.

Three days later, the girl, Sarah Tannerford, was murdered on her way home from the library. Someone dragged her into an alley and cut her throat, clean and simple. Quick.

Ethan had been so shocked he didn't go to school for the rest of the week, staying locked up in his room. The only person he'd let in was Grayson. Wrapped in emotional turmoil, he let his brother bring him food, let him curl around him, rub circles into his back, talk to him long into the night. They were comforting words, words meant to distract him. He made him laugh. And, with a little video game time and watching movies together, it distracted Ethan from the knowledge that some monster had killed his prom date.

\---

"Oliver, is he alright?"

Ethan doesn't even wait for the greeting before he hurls his question at his other friend. He lives pretty close to Jack. He'd been pacing his room for the last few hours, alternating between staring at the wallpaper and calling Jack's house, but there hadn't been an answer. He'd called Oliver first to ask him to check on Jack, and gladly, he did.

Oliver knows. He's the second and last person he told. He's known Oliver since freshman year of college.

He is just happy to hear his voice. To know that Grayson hasn't gotten to him too. He must've been so focused on getting Ethan back that he didn't realize...

(I have to call the cops, Ethan! This isn't right! Somebody has to know!)

(I know, please. Oliver, don't tell anyone. I only told you because I trust you. Please!)

(Why?! I wish you never told me. I-I can't. This is insane.)

"Ethan," Oliver says, and the tone of his voice tells Ethan everything he needs to know. His legs give out and he sinks to the ground, the pain shooting through his knees so distant he doesn't really notice it.

"How did you know?" Oliver demands to know, his voice sharp. It's rattled with pain, though. Below the surface.

(Fine! I won't tell anybody. But...fuck Ethan. You should've never told me. Fuck. I-I can't. How crazy is he?. He won't come after me. Will he?)

(No, Ollie. He doesn't know you know.)

He's lost a friend tonight, Ethan reminds himself. Oliver will take good care of Jack now. Give him a proper funeral. Call the police. Grayson is good at making things look like a suicide. He's real good at that. Nobody would suspect a thing.

"You know," Ethan says and swallows. His voice is shaking, and he clears his throat, rubs his eyes. His fingers come back wet. "I'm so sorry. Please, Oliver. Don't.

There's a long silence.

"I swear to God, Ethan. You need to fucking...put him down."

Like a dog.

"I—I gotta go, Oliver. I, um. Yeah."

"Alright, Ethan," Oliver says, and his voice is cold, sharp. Ethan swallows and flips the phone shut. He has roughly three hours before Grayson will get here. Time to vanish again.

\---

Ethan doesn't know what exactly had tipped Dad off, but shortly before they graduated, Grayson and Dad started fighting a lot. Before, they never did. It was Ethan who constantly butted heads with Dad, but something must have happened, because suddenly they were constantly at each other's throats. Mom got concerned at one point but didn't question it. They didn't yell like Ethan and their dad did when they fought, but he could still see it, the straight lines of their squared shoulders, the angry glances they shot each other.

He could feel the tension thick in the room whenever they were both in it. Ethan mostly kept to himself at that time, hiding away in his and Grayson's room when the other two were having their silent battles in the living room. He actually thought it was good that Grayson finally started to stand up for himself and stopped taking Dad's shit.

Dad was always the military type. He wanted his sons in the army too. But with Grayson's asthma he couldn't. Grayson felt that he used that against him although he loved the outdoors, loved working out, loved guns and weapons and blood. And if Grayson had asthma, it was like Ethan did too. So, neither could join. Dad tended to be sharper with Grayson because, despite what Grayson himself thought, he saw untapped potential in him.

But that, of course, was before he knew why they were fighting, before he knew that Dad had noticed something wasn't right with his son, that there were things that shouldn't be, too many coincidences and accidents surrounding Grayson Dolan.

Two months before they were supposed to graduate, Ethan fell down with a nasty flu when they were supposed to be having a camping trip with Dad. It was a 'boy's trip.' Manly bonding time. He stayed home, Mom nursing him back to health.

Grayson and Dad went on that camping trip.

Only Grayson came back.

\---

Ethan hitches a ride with a group of frat boys on their way to Vegas. Most of them are already drunk, and the designated driver broods behind the steering wheel while his friends offer Ethan beer and other liquor. They are easily distracted, and Ethan has no problem steering the conversation away from him as soon as they start asking too many questions. The sober driver, of course, notices, but Ethan flashes him his most innocent smile in the rearview mirror and hopes it will throw him off.

He has never liked Vegas, even though Grayson seemed to enjoy their stay once a year in the infamous Sin City. To Ethan, it's too loud, too flashy, too crowded, too everything with its blinking signs and the music blasting from speakers attached to the fronts of every casino and hotel down the strip. Grayson knows how much Ethan hates it here, so hopefully he won't even think about looking for Ethan in Vegas. And if that means Ethan has to stay there for the rest of his life, he'll gladly do so as long as Grayson doesn't find him.

\---

There was a guy in one of the bars they hustled pool in who grabbed Ethan's ass. Grayson broke his hand and started a brawl. There was a waitress at a diner who flirted with Ethan. The next time they were there she had a black eye and refused to serve their table. There was an employee at the university bookstore who checked out Ethan's ass. She was shaking the next day when Ethan went in to get his used textbooks. There was a student in their lecture course who asked Ethan out for coffee. She didn't show up and wasn't at there the next day either.

Ethan considers himself smart.

He'd always had good grades in school and was generally considered kind of like a nerd in a way, and when he thinks about it now, he sees that it's all been obvious. The signs were right there, but Ethan refused to see them. Grayson clenching his jaw when someone flirted with Ethan, the way the vein in his neck began to pulse when someone looked at him appreciatively, the twitch of an eyelid when the waitress leaned in a bit too much when she put Ethan's food down in front of him, the white knuckles of Grayson's clenched hands when someone smiled too brightly at him.

It was all there, from the very beginning, and Ethan didn't see it.

Not until after. After Dad died.

He fell into the lake when he and Grayson were fishing. He had a heart attack, lost his footing. Grayson couldn't save him in time.

They moved after that, after high school, after the summer. After the grief settled into Ethan's bones, stuck there like glue. Mom was okay. She had life insurance and although she was terribly grief stricken, she let her boys move off, far away from New Jersey, all the way to California, all the way to that college town.

He didn't notice. Until their senior year of college at Berkley, a business degree almost in both of their reaches. It was on their twenty third birthday that his life changed.

Ally "Ally Cat" Williams. She was beautiful. Red head, a wonderful smile, funny, smart. He met her in one of his slack off classes the beginning of senior year. Art appreciation. Grayson didn't want to take the class because he didn't like art. Ally loved art. She was so good at it too.

Ally was everything Ethan was looking for in a girl, and from the moment he met her, he could picture a life, a house, a white picket fence, two children, a dog, a boring nine-to-five job and coming home to a family in the evening.

He told Grayson. Grayson laughed.

"Ally?" He mused. "I've seen her around. The redhead. Heard she's a hoe."

"You're a hoe." Ethan had said, and Grayson had shut up. He hadn't seen the darkness in his brother's eyes. Was too caught up in picturing his perfect life with Ally Cat Williams.

He should've just kept his mouth shut.

Ally committed suicide before he ever got the chance to ask her out. Slit his wrists in the shower. Her roommate found her. A week later everyone had to attend a seminar on campus culture and respecting everyone.

Ethan didn't think much of it.

Until Ethan found the newspaper clippings. The trophies telling of murder, the journal of decay that followed in Grayson's wake.

\---

Ethan gets a job as a barkeeper-slash-bouncer at some seedy bar off the strip in Vegas. On his second day, one of the waitresses, Kathy, asks him out for a drink but he tells her he's gay. Kathy takes it in stride, wants to set him up with one of her friends soon after, but Ethan makes excuses, tells her of the abusive relationship he just got out of. He doesn't say Grayson's name, but the story he makes up is so close to the truth that he wants to throw up. Kathy is all big, teary eyes and comforting smiles. He feels bad for lying to her, but if Grayson should find him, Ethan's not presenting him with another suitable victim.

Ethan doesn't have a type, per se, but if he were anybody but Ethan Dolan, he would've said yes. Kathy is pretty, with a mop of curly chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She's funny and sweet, with a broad smile that helps with the tips she gets.

But sometimes, when she laughs or throws a glance over her shoulder and winks at Ethan, he can see Ally before him, doing the same, and it makes him taste bile in his throat.

\---

Grayson didn't deny it when Ethan confronted him. He didn't show remorse.

Instead, Grayson got angry.

"You went through my stuff?" he demanded to know, and in that moment Ethan's world crumbled. He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe properly. There were bands of iron wrapped around his ribcage, pressing down and making him gasp. His whole body shook, his hands were slick with cold sweat and the newspaper clippings drifted lazily to the ground, black and white photos of covered bodies at the crime scene drawing in Ethan's gaze. There were trophies. Rings. Hair ties. Watches.

He couldn't look at Grayson, at the dark, furious eyes, burning with a fire he'd never seen before. This was not the Grayson he knew. This was someone else, someone twisted and dangerous.

Grayson grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shook him, yelled, but Ethan couldn't understand the words. He could feel Grayson's hot breath on his face, Grayson's fingertips digging into his shoulder.

"I did it for you, E!"

His eyes stung.

"I had to protect you."

His lungs burned.

"You left me no choice!"

His throat was dry.

"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself! You made me do it!"

Grayson caught him when Ethan's legs gave out, cradled him against his chest. Like all those times before, when Ethan scraped his knee, when he fell off a tree and broke his arm, when he was injured on their first skate run. Grayson rocked him back and forth, whispered sweet nothings into Ethan's ear, kissed his forehead and hair, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Ethan's back.

It wasn't comforting. Not like it used to be.

"I did it for you, E," Grayson whispered, and Ethan sobbed, buried his face in Grayson's shirt. He didn't smell like before—familiar, comforting, safe. Grayson smelled of blood and decay, and Ethan had to swallow against the bile at the back of his throat.

"Don't leave me, E."

Ethan shook his head and let Grayson tilt his head back, didn't shake off the hand caressing his jaw, thumb following the line of his cheekbone. He didn't turn his head away when Grayson leaned down and kissed him, breath hot, lips chapped, tongue wet and demanding when it pushed between Ethan's lip for a taste. Grayson made a sound, breathless and needy, and pulled Ethan closer, his arms like a vice around Ethan's back.

He let it all happen. Listened to Grayson begging him to stay between kisses.

"Yeah, Gray, I'll stay. No, I won't leave you."

He left three days later, when Grayson was knocked out on his bed.

\---

It takes Grayson six months to find him.

Deep down, Ethan knew that this would eventually happen, he'd just hoped it would take him longer. But after all, Grayson has a lot of fake ID's and pure, relentless bloodthirsty rage at his disposal, and he's the best tracker Ethan can imagine, so it was only a matter of time. Maybe he really should've joined the army, asthmatic or not.

Half a year.

That's how long Ethan had.

Grayson is waiting for him in Ethan's rental, a dump not far away from the bar he works in. Kathy has given him some furniture. A chair. A desk. Minifridge No bed, though. He never expected to stay long enough for it to matter. And yet, he has stayed.

So there's only a mattress on the floor, next to it Ethan's open duffel and a cardboard box with the remains of dinner resting on top.

Grayson is standing in front of the window, blocking the view on the brick wall of the next house. His arms are folded over his chest and he leans back casually against the window, looking Ethan up and down calmly.

Ethan takes the last step into the apartment and closes the door behind him. His gun is where it's been for five months; first check he got he went and bought out at a local Walmart. It's tucked safely away in his waistband at the small of his back. But he knows he won't use it. Same goes for the knife in his sock. Right on the side. Sharp, deathly. He knows he will use neither, and so does Grayson, because even with all the terrible things Grayson has done, even with all the people he's murdered, Ethan could never hurt Grayson, much less pull the trigger.

He thought he could, but he knows. He can't.

Even if Grayson was on his way to rid the Earth of humanity, Ethan's hands would be bound, and he would watch, hopelessly, as Grayson stains his hands with red and takes lives.

"You lied to me," is the first thing Grayson says and Ethan shrugs, takes off his jacket. He's not scared, but eerily calm.

He has expected this, knew this day would come.

He knew Grayson would eventually be there.

Six months after not having spent six days away from Grayson in his entire life had felt like a lifetime.

Ethan looks up, takes a good look at Grayson. There are dark bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep, his clothes are rumpled and dirty, his strong jaw covered in bristles, his hair clean but lacking the gel he used to style it with. He still looks so beefy, though. Must've kept his strict, almost obsessive work out schedule, even then.

"So did you," Ethan says and throws his jacket onto his duffel. The apartment is small, and even from where he's standing at the door, Ethan can smell Grayson. Like wet grass, like aftershave. Like sweat and worry and anger.

"I had no other choice, I told you, E," Grayson says, matter-of-factly, and Ethan feels the anger bubbling in his chest, scathing words fighting their way up his throat. But he swallows them down, grinds his teeth.

"You promised," he reminds Grayson, and now Grayson shrugs.

"So did you."

Silence follows. The twins look at each other.

They both look so worn, so tried.

Tired of playing cat and mouse.

And that's how it is, isn't it?

That's who they are, broken and fucked up, barely able to function without the other.

There hasn't been a minute since Ethan left in which he hasn't thought of Grayson, in which he hasn't missed his twin with every fiber of his being, despite the things Grayson has done. He constantly forgets to eat, there's not a night since he left in which he's slept more than four hours, and at work he keeps on 'spacing out', how Kathy has come to call it, staring off into the distance and thinking, about Grayson, about the blood on both their hands, the kiss, how it had felt.

How good it had felt. How back then, on the bedroom floor, with Grayson above him, everything had slipped into place and clicked.

This was inevitable, wasn't it?

Grayson was always there for him, from the second he was born, until the moment he takes his last breath, and even after, Grayson will be there for Ethan. And Ethan has been there for Grayson too.

There's nobody who understands Ethan the way Grayson does.

Nobody.

"This is no life for you, E," Grayson tells him and takes a hesitant step towards him. His face is full of worry, his eyebrows drawn together. Ethan snorts.

"I mean, look at you! You look like shit!" Grayson goes on and takes another step. His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out and touch but thinks better of it in the last moment. He gestures at the mattress with its rumpled blanket instead.

"Look at this place! I counted ten cockroaches while I waited for you, and I haven't been here that long!"

He's only two steps away now. It would be so easy to cross the distance and press against Grayson's chest, let himself be enveloped by Grayson's arms and smell, sink into his warmth.

Return home. Return wherever home is. On the run. With Grayson.

Grayson swallows. Ethan follows the movement of his adam's apple with his eyes, looks up, for a moment tracing the bow of Grayson's lips, watches the tip of his tongue swiping over them to wet them.

"I just wanna make sure you're okay," Grayson says, and his body is vibrating with tension. He looks like he wants to take the last step, cross the distance between them and never let go again.

"You gotta be okay, E." It's said so quietly, Ethan almost doesn't hear it.

Like this, it's so easy to forget all the blood on Grayson's hands. The newspaper clippings at the bottom of his dresser drawer. The sick, twisted, depraved trophies.

Ethan has stopped running. He doesn't know when it happened, maybe already when he let Grayson kiss him, and Ethan just didn't realize.

It doesn't matter anymore, because Grayson is here, like he always is.

Ethan raises his hand, and Grayson takes the last step.

Grayson's face is full of surprised awe and his hands are actually shaking when he reaches out for Ethan, curls one hand around Ethan's neck and lets the other rest on Ethan's cheek, thumb tracing patterns over Ethan's skin. Ethan feels like his heart is trying to burst out of his ribcage, and he takes a step towards Grayson himself, even though there is almost no space left, but he has to get closer, has to feel his twin against him.

Has to get home.

Grayson's chest is firm against his own, and his skin is so hot it's burning Ethan's even through two layers of clothing. One of Grayson's arms curls around his middle, hand resting on the small of Ethan's back, pulling him in, as if he wants Ethan to climb inside him, into the cradle of his ribcage, so he can never leave again, safely tucked away beneath Grayson's heart.

And Ethan will never leave again. Because he's right where he's supposed to be. Grayson has protected him from everything, from the harsh tongue of cruelty, the bullies, the heartbreak, from getting used and discarded.

Grayson's lips are urgent, demanding, pressing against Ethan's own relentlessly, tongue pushing between them. Their breath mingles hot between them, brushes Ethan's cheek in a soft caress, and Grayson groans, nips at Ethan's full lips. His hands, his bloody, bloody hands are everywhere on Ethan's body, pushing beneath his shirt and waistband, caressing, stroking, squeezing, pulling, pinching, kneading, every inch of his body. Grayson's palms are hot like brands, so firm. So solid.

He can feel Grayson's cock, hard and hot, through the denim layers of their jeans, and he thrusts his hips, sighs when he hears Grayson's groan, lets himself be pushed towards the mattress and down on top of it. Grayson follows quickly, climbs on top of him, between Ethan's spread legs, covers his neck in bruises, sucks his marks into Ethan's skin. Arching his back, Ethan moans. And Grayson's on Ethan's clothes until seams give and rip open.

Ethan's skin is paler than it used to, but Grayson doesn't care. He takes a long look at him, lets his hand glide over Ethan's torso, traces the outline of ribs and his hipbones, follows the line of a silvery-white scar here and there. Memories. Accidents.

Grayson traces the marks of their life with his tongue, slides his hands up and down Ethan's sides and makes Ethan shudder and groan, his eyes roll back into his head and his toes curl. His skin is too sensitive, every touch of Grayson's calloused skin making sparks chase up his spine and explode behind his eye lids. He has to muffle a scream by biting into the heel of his hand when Grayson grinds his hips down, makes their cocks rub against each other through the fabric of their pants. It's overwhelming, but still not enough. He needs everything, needs to take everything, needs to give everything.

Grayson fumbles a bit when he tries to get Ethan's pants open, and Ethan gets frustrated, bats his hands away to do it himself. He can't get rid of the clothes still separating him from Grayson fast enough. Needs to be even closer, now. Needs to feel scorching hot skin against his own. Grayson knows what Ethan needs, he always does, and he leans back and pulls off his shirt so fast the seams pop and protest, but neither of them care. Both of their pants and boxers are discarded and quickly forgotten, because then Grayson is on top of him again, their cocks rubbing against each other, Grayson grinding down against Ethan and Ethan thrusting up in the same rhythm.

He's getting close. Grayson's hands on him, his lips everywhere, sucking, kissing, tongue licking and tracing, teeth nipping and biting, leaving pink, crescent marks.

Ethan needs more, and Grayson knows, always knows.

"Lube," Grayson grinds out, his voice breathless and hoarse, and Ethan gestures towards his duffel.

"Massage oil," he responds with a voice he barely recognizes as his own with all the need it carries. The massage oil was a present from Kathy, who told him to find a sweet guy who'd help him get rid of all the tenseness in his shoulders. Ethan doesn't think she'd this in mind when she handed it to him, wink or not.

Grayson's movements are jerky and quick as he scrambles off Ethan and towards the duffel, pulls it closer and digs through it, throwing clothes every which way until he has the small plastic tube in his hands. Ethan uses the time to take a look at him, the muscles shifting beneath his skin, his large hands with the thick fingers, the curve of his spine, the dimples right above his perfectly rounded ass. He thinks about his legs thrown over those broad shoulders, of his heels digging into the small of Grayson's back, and shudders pleasantly, can't stop the moan from escaping his lips. Grayson twitches and nearly drops the lube, and in an instant he's right there again, pushing Ethan's legs up to his chest to slip slick fingers between his buttocks.

When one of Grayson's fingers circles Ethan's hole he releases a breathless groan and bites his lip. It's too much, too much too much. There's already a wet spot of precome on his stomach, his thigh muscles are protesting with the effort of holding his legs up, and to every touch of Grayson's fingertips, Ethan feels himself shudder and twitch. Grayson is whispering sweet nothings, breathless and barely intelligible, while he stares at Ethan's ass, follows the movement of his finger with his eyes when he pushes inside.

To Ethan, it feels strange, being spread open like this, but he wants it. He wants it more than anything else, needs more, and he doesn't hear himself begging for Grayson to c'mon, more, please, Gray, faster.

Grayson hushes him, his hand twitching where it holds Ethan's right leg up. The rest of his composure is crumbling, Ethan can see it in the way he's shaking, how his chest is heaving with his breaths, how his eyes are wide and unblinking, as if he doesn't want to risk missing one second.

Grayson's finger pushes in and out of Ethan, and he speeds up the rhythm a bit before pushing in a second finger, scissoring them. Ethan throws his head back, closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip, tells himself to relax as Grayson spreads him open with tender care.

It feels like hours until Grayson finally withdraws his fingers and lines himself up. Ethan doesn't even have the time to mourn the loss of something inside him before Grayson pushes his cock in. He knows they have no condoms, but he doesn't care. He'll take everything Grayson can give him, wants to feel him inside himself without the latex barrier.

Grayson lets out a drawn-out groan when he's fully inside Ethan, and Ethan can see him shaking with the amount of work it takes him to hold back and let Ethan adjust to the stretch. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't feel too good either, stranger than anything, being stretched this wide open. But he knows it will feel better soon, because there's already warmth pooling in his stomach from the realization alone that Grayson is inside him. He knows that Grayson will take him to heights he's never reached before. It's pure pleasure.

He wraps his legs around Grayson's middle, reaches out for one of Grayson's hands where it's clutching the sheets next to his face. He tugs on Grayson's wrist until he lets go and then draws Grayson's hand to his face, kisses his fingertips, the scarred knuckles, the weapon-calloused palm while Grayson watches him with wide, glassy eyes. He licks over the pad of Grayson's index finger and closes his lips around it, thinks he can taste the blood, coppery warm, mixed with Grayson's sweat and he licks it up greedily, sucks half of Grayson's middle finger into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it.

Grayson groans and involuntarily thrusts his hips, once, his eyes on Ethan's face, unblinking, unwilling to miss a single moment. Ethan sighs when he feels Grayson move inside him, lets the finger slip out of his mouth, now shiny and sweat-slick, and Grayson tangles his hand in Ethan's hair, leans down to kiss him. It's hungry, teeth sharp as they pull Ethan's bottom lip into Grayson's mouth. He pushes his tongue into Grayson's mouth, lets it slide over his and curls it against the back of Grayson's teeth.

Grayson's hips have started moving in shallow, short thrusts, and Ethan is getting used to the feeling, demands more, draws Grayson in with a hand on his shoulder and tightens his legs around his middle, eager. Grayson bites Ethan's neck, muffles another groan as he speeds up, pushes deeper, faster, harder, and Ethan keens, presses his head into the pillow until the tendons on his neck protest.

"You're mine," Grayson says and bites Ethan's earlobe gently, and Ethan nods, says yesyesyes until his voice cracks, and Grayson goes on, moves his hips, holds Ethan's in an iron grip, fingertips digging deep as he pulls Ethan in with every thrust.

"Did it all for you, E. Had to."

"Yes, Gray, I know, Grayson, please—"

"You're mine, always mine, always, always, always."

Grayson tangles one hand in Ethan's hair, pulls his head up and mashes their lips together in something that isn't quite a kiss, more open mouths pressed against each other while they breath in each other's air, slick lips sliding against another.

"Yours, Gray, only yours," he says, and Grayson takes Ethan's member in his hand, jerking it to the sharp, quick rhythm of his thrusts until Ethan's back arches off the bed, his hands tearing on the sheets, his toes curl. There's an explosion of stars in front of his eyes. All he can see is Gray.

Grayson on top of him, inside him, around him, always there.

Ethan comes with a choked scream, spilling over Grayson's hand, his body clenching around Grayson, who jerks him through the aftershocks, doesn't stop thrusting inside Ethan until he goes limp, his eyelids heavy, riding the afterglow.

Grayson follows soon after with a garbled sound on his lips. It's his name. He collapses on top of him, sticky, heavy and sweaty, but Ethan doesn't care, waits until Grayson has caught his breath and rolls off him.

He can feel slickness between his cheeks, staining the sheets beneath him, but he doesn't care.

Because Grayson is here, next to him, one arm thrown over Ethan's hips, one leg tangled with Ethan's. He's here. He always will be.

"You're mine," Grayson mumbles before he falls asleep, eyes drooping, body finally completely relaxed.

"You're mine too," Ethan says, and thinks he catches Grayson smile before they both drift off.

\---

Ethan wakes a couple hours later. It's dark, but Vegas is wide awake, the sound of tourists and cars drifting in through the cracked open window. Grayson is next to him, fast asleep, face relaxed. He looks younger than he is, almost innocent. One of his hands rests on Ethan's chest, fingers spread wide as if he wants to feel Ethan's heartbeat against his palm.

Ethan knows he could leave now, could slip out of the bed and get dressed, sneak from the room without Grayson waking up. He could take the next Greyhound bus and let it take him wherever.

He could.

He couldn't.

Grayson's hand is resting on his chest, his twin is next to him, the sound of his even breathing comforting, familiar, home.

Grayson's hand is resting on his chest, Grayson's bloody, bloody hand.

Ethan turns his head, looks at Grayson's face, the fan of his eyelashes, the mole on his chin, his jawline, covered in stubble, his forehead, lacking the creases of tension, his shoulders, broad and relaxed, no trace of the weight this twisted Atlas carries.

Ethan could leave.

But, he won't.


	5. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very pregnant Ethan falls in the bathroom changing the lightbulb.

5.

Ethan & Grayson, 20

-

Ethan probably shouldn't have been up the ladder. But he figured, a tiny stepladder couldn't cause any harm as he changed the light bulb over the ceiling of their bathroom. These days, house chores are all he can do to not climb up the walls bored out of his mind. Because in this damn town nobody wants to hire a twenty-two-week pregnant guy, as if he's not capable of working in his current state. As it is, Grayson is left with the responsibility of bringing home the bacon until Ethan can actually get a job. They have savings, sure. Plenty of it. But Grayson wants to work, wants to use his hands. It distracts him from the stress of it all. While Ethan spends his days at the one level open-floor farmhouse they got themselves after all this pregnancy mess started.

After they figured it out, they had to leave. Leave L.A., leave the YouTube community; no one knew, of course. The truth of who is the baby's daddy. But one can't garner suspicion if they have a reputation to uphold and they felt like they would, no matter what lie Ethan would spin about the father later on. They'd find out, especially knowing how obsessive fans can get. They'd notice Ethan's distended belly no matter how many sweatshirts he threw on. It hurt. Sure it did, especially with so many fans, so many people that replied on their content to brighten their days; for some, it was the only thing that got them through the day (that's what Ethan's PMs say, that's what they tell him). No one could know the truth. So, they've gone into hiding. There in this town that's barely a town at all, Grayson has grown out his hair, changed up his style.

"Oh my God, are you Grayson Dolan?"

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry. I-I thought you were someone else. You look so familiar..."

"Sorry. Never heard of the guy."

Apple-freaking-pie life. Who would have thought this is how their lives would turn out? Not Ethan that is for sure.

Their family thinks somebody else has gotten Ethan knocked up and that's why they left. If only. If anybody would comment, he'd say that. He'd say that's why they left. 'Cause the guy left his ass the moment that he found out he'd gotten him knocked up. He's probably halfway around the globe by now.

So, he's up the ladder, changing the light bulb while Grayson is somewhere talking on the phone with one of his co-workers. When he sort of has a dizzy spell out of nowhere, and he grasps for purchase with the shower curtains but in his haste his foot gets caught between the steps of the ladder and the toilet, and down he goes. He barely registers the pain and the sound of his skull crashing against the bathroom sink corner, before his body hits the floor and everything goes black.

\---

Grayson hears a loud thud and pauses in the middle of his conversation. "Uh, Ryan, wait a sec," he says to the phone. "E?" He calls apprehensively. He calls again when there is no answer. "Hey, I will call you back." He manages to tell Ryan before hastily hanging up and walking fast towards the bathroom all the while still calling Ethan's name.

When he opens the door and finds Ethan on the floor unconscious with blood pooling under his head, Grayson forgets to breathe for a few seconds. The world stops. Everything. There's just him. And there's just Ethan. Until his protective instincts kick in and he's in motion. He steps over his brother, before kneeling next to him in the cramped space left between him and the bathroom sink. His eyes fall on the smear of blood on the now chipped corner of the sink.

Shit.

"Fuck, E." Grayson breathes out. He grabs Ethan's jaw, moving his head slowly. The left side of his face is a mess of blood, and while Grayson can see that the blood is coming from Ethan's hairline, he can't make out how bad it is because of it. He forces himself not to panic, even though his hands are slightly shaking, and his heart is trying to fly out of his chest. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot no matter how little they are. He's fallen off enough skateboards to know that. Still, it's scary, and Grayson has to swallow the bile rising from the fear of how badly hurt Ethan could be.

Grayson scans the rest of Ethan's body, searching for any other injuries before attempting to move him. His hand lands on Ethan's pregnant belly, wishing he could feel the baby move like Ethan has been able to for a couple of weeks already. Cupping the swell lovingly he prays their baby didn't get hurt with the fall.

As he continues his assessing, he sees Ethan's socked feet caught between the ladder steps. He sets the task to untangle his feet first, thankful Ethan wasn't wearing his sneakers as it would make it more difficult to get them out in the tiny space. With that done, Grayson calculates how to best get Ethan out of the bathroom and out to the Porsche, and all he can think of is dragging Ethan out to the hall, where Grayson will have enough space to get him up in his arms. He reaches for one of the hand towels hanging on the wall and presses it lightly over the head wound to stop the blood.

That's when Ethan makes a soft pained sound.

"E? Hey, c'mon, wake up." Grayson crouches anxiously. If Ethan is able to wake up, it eases his worry a little.

Ethan groans, licks his lips, and then slowly opens his eyes into slits.

Grayson can't help the choked relieved sound that leaves his mouth. "There you are."

"S'm?" Ethan slurs, eyebrows knotting in confusion, before hissing as the movement pulls on his head wound.

"You fell from the ladder, E." Grayson explains, peaking at the towel to see if the blood has stopped flowing. Grayson's lips purse when he sees it hasn't. "Gotta take you to the hospital."

Ethan looks at him, confusion still present on his face. Grayson can't really see his eyes, as Ethan keeps squinting at him like the soft sunlight covering the bathroom is too much for him, but he guesses his pupils must be blown. Grayson has seen Ethan have enough concussions to know the signs.

"Think you can walk?" He asks, because Ethan is now awake and if Grayson tried to carry him he would punch him. Concussed or not.

"Yeah," Ethan croaks slowly. He blinks a few times, and then he's sitting up before Grayson can help him.

"Damn, bro, take it easy." Grayson chastises, taking a hold on Ethan's swaying upper body.

He's not surprised when Ethan's face goes green, and he barely has time to turn to the side to puke what he had for lunch all over the floor and wall.

"Crap," Grayson murmurs, rubbing Ethan's back softly.

Ethan dry heaves until the nausea passes, and coughs before spitting the taste of the vomit out of his mouth. "Ugh," he whines, right hand holding his head in pain.

Grayson gives him a minute to recoup. "Alright, ready to stand?" He asks apprehensively. If it was up to Grayson, they would be in the car already driving to the hospital, but he has to give him his time.

Ethan exhales, hand falling on to his lap. He looks like he's about to pass out again, and Grayson can't have that.

"Ethan, hey, stay awake." He commands, tapping Ethan's cheek.

Ethan slaps Grayson's hand annoyed, but he's back to paying attention.

"We're getting up now, okay?" Grayson asks again.

Ethan grunts softly, which Grayson takes as a yes.

"At the count of three," Grayson instructs, positioning his arms around Ethan's hips and underarm to take most of his weight. Ethan helps, as much as he can when they get to three, but Grayson is glad that he lets him do most of the work and at the same time it concerns him.

His train of thought is interrupted when Ethan yelps, toppling over, and almost falling back on the floor. Grayson huffs with the added weight and moves quickly to take a better hold of him. They end up awkwardly hugging, with Ethan panting erratically against Grayson's neck. Grayson's concern escalates, and he feels the need to move this faster.

"Fuck," Ethan grunts, voiced laced with pain. He shifts unbalanced, as he fists Grayson's shirt for dear life. "My foot," He manages to explain between his ragged breaths.

Grayson curses. "Okay, don't put weight on it," he exhales, begging his own nerves to calm down, and trying to come up with another way to get out and avoid Ethan going through more pain.

But Ethan starts to slide down, his body like a ragdoll losing all his strength.

"No, Ethan, you gotta-" Grayson shouts alarmed, holding him up. "C'mon man, you need to stay up. Don't go lazy on me." He pleads, quickly thinking what he could do. He wants to keep Ethan's dignity, but he's in too much pain and Grayson is running out of options here. "You're not going to like this," Grayson murmurs before in a swift movement and he gets Ethan up in his arms.

Ethan all but whines with the change in posture, gasping and closing his eyes in clear sign of how bad the pain in his head is. "Gray," he moans.

"I know. I'm sorry. It will be over soon." Grayson reassures, irrational guilt flowing in his chest. "Hang on a bit longer."

Adrenaline pushing him, Grayson manages to carry Ethan out of the bathroom. He awkwardly grabs the car keys that are resting over the table just before the door heading to the garage, trying to not tussle Ethan on his hassle to get them.

One problem though, he cannot open the car with his arms full of Ethan.

"Hey, I need you to open the car." Grayson asks Ethan, who's being too quiet for his liking.

"Um. Huh?" Ethan answers drowsily.

"Don't fall asleep. You can sleep in the hospital, okay?" Grayson promises. "Can you open the car for me?"

Ethan blinks, and Grayson has a moment of doubt that he can even understand him. Then Ethan is grabbing the keys from Grayson's hand under his leg, and Grayson leans down a little so he can reach the door. It takes a few tries, Ethan's own hands are shaking a little, but he manages to open the door.

"Thank God," Grayson breathes.

He makes quick time on settling Ethan on the passenger seat, and then he runs to the driver's side. The rumble of the Porsche's engine fills the space while he waits for the garage door to fully open. When he does, Grayson tears out of the garage.

The nearest hospital is about a fifteen minutes' drive.

But will he make it...in time?

-

Ethan's brain is currently trying to rip out of his skull, and his foot is glad to join in with the incessant beating and shooting pain. He really wants to go to sleep, but Grayson keeps jabbering and asking him to stay awake, and Ethan isn't too far gone to not notice the desperation in his voice.

Damn, his head really hurts, and as much as he loves Grayson's car right now it's making him feel sick. He swallows repeatedly to keep the nausea at bay. Good thing he puked it all back at the house. He's so freaking tired. His eyes drop a little, but Grayson is right there shaking him awake. He would punch him if he had the strength.

He didn't need to get picked up like a...baby. He can take care of himself, dammit.

"You can punch me all you want when you are not bleeding from your head." Grayson retorts, voice tight.

Ass.

"It's for your own good."

Ethan huffs. "Stop reading my thoughts," he slurs annoyed. Twin telepathy isn't always the best.

Grayson doesn't answer, and Ethan chances a blurry look at him. Grayson is looking at him, face pale and tight.

"W'a?"

Grayson returns his eyes back to the road. "Just stay awake."

"'kay." Ethan mutters.

Easier said than done. Ethan needs to focus on something if he's not going to fall asleep here. Watching the scenery out of his window proves to be a bad idea as his stomach twists, and for a moment there he thinks he'll throw up in the car, but he manages to keep the bile down. He keeps taking deep breaths, and in between his brain decides at that moment to remind him something. "Shit," He says alarmed, hands falling over his belly. He waits for a sign of movement, a flutter, something. "Gray," he chokes out. "Baby's not moving."

Crap, he fucked it up. He killed their baby. All because of his inability to stay still for a second. The light bulb wasn't that damn important. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How's he supposed to deal with this? How is he supposed to even look at Grayson in the face?

"E, hey," Grayson's hand is there, grabbing his wrist and tugging. "Ethan, look at me. Hey, please."

Ethan shakes his head, which only makes him dizzy and the pain to explode all over. He whines, deep within his throat, breathing hard through his nose.

"Calm down, calm down," Grayson whispers soothingly, thumb rubbing inside Ethan's wrist. "It's okay. The baby is okay."

Ethan wants to believe him, he really does. But he doesn't have to worry about believing Grayson, because the pain in his head grows stronger and his eyesight fills with black dots. The last thing he hears is Grayson's voice calling his name.

"Ethan!"

-

"Ethan!" Grayson shouts over and over again to no avail. "Dammit. Fuck!" He slams his hands on the steering wheel. He presses on the gas, focusing on his mission to get Ethan to the hospital fast.

The hospital sign comes to view a mile later, but Grayson doesn't slow down until he's at the emergency doors. Ethan would totally have a fit if he had been awake to hear the Porches' breaks screech at the force to which Grayson stops the car. That's their only vehicle. He barely manages to put the car in park, before flying out of the driver's side. He opens Ethan's door, gathers him up in his arms, and then jogs inside as quickly as he can manage with his dead weight. Ethan's gained weight since his pregnancy too so now they're the same weight-wise. It's tough. His biceps feel like they are scorched by liquid fire by the relentless strain.

As soon as the doors open, he shouts for help.

The action is instant, the nurses from behind the desk run to his rescue and what follows is a flurry of movement with getting Ethan on a stretcher and wheeling him down to one of the emergency rooms.

Grayson has to stand back and let them work on Ethan, but he stays close enough where he can see what they are doing and listen to what they say. By the time the doctor shows up and orders a bunch of tests, Grayson's adrenaline starts to wear off, and he has to sit down on the only chair in the room, now against the wall.

"Mister?" A soft voice calls a few minutes later, touching his shoulder.

Grayson raises his head from his hands, and looks up at one of the nurses. "Grayson," he croaks, his throat suddenly dry.

"Grayson," she smiles, "I'm Mandy. We are waiting for the tests to come back, before Dr. Cooper sutures the wound on-"

"Ethan," Grayson supplies.

She smiles again, "Ethan's head. You can stay with him until that time, and then I'm going to ask you to leave the room while Dr. Cooper finishes. While you wait to be called back, you can fill up all the information necessary to admit Ethan."

Grayson nods, chest heavy with worry. If they are admitting Ethan even before the tests are back, things are bad. "Okay."

"We'll do our best." Mandy comforts, and with that she walks away and lets Grayson come closer to Ethan.

In the time Grayson spent sitting calming himself, they got him out of his bloody clothes and into a hospital gown. There's a temporary gauze over the wound of his head, already with a dot of blood marked on the outside. A bruise is starting to form around it, and it is stark purple against how pale Ethan's skin is. Grayson runs his hand over Ethan's hair, swallowing the knot lodged in his throat. His other hand finds its way to the baby bump, Ethan's words in the car hammering a hole in his chest. He's wishing with his touch for his baby to know somehow that he's there and to hold on.

It would be their luck that after all they have been through, something so simple like a fall would be their undoing. Grayson is not generally pessimistic- mostly just realistic- but fear loves pessimism a lot.

Right now, he's scared shitless.

Grayson is kicked out for about two hours from Ethan's room. It takes another hour for Dr. Cooper to diagnose Ethan with a severe concussion, two bruised ribs, and a sprained ankle. There has been worry about brain swelling because of the nature of the wound, but they found none so far. For now, the doctor wants to keep him overnight to monitor the concussion.

"The androcologist will be up in a few minutes to perform an ultrasound." Dr. Cooper informs him. "But as far as the vital signs reading goes, the baby seems to be fine."

Grayson nods, too tired and uneasy to speak. This is good news, but he won't be able to breathe with relief until Ethan wakes up. He's gone through this too many times to not expect the unexpected. Ethan has been reckless all his life. Hell, he has been too. They are adrenaline junkies by nature.

Ethan would laugh at his current bout of pessimism.

"I'll be back when the androcologist finishes," Dr. Cooper says, giving Grayson an encouraging smile, before stepping out of the room.

They have moved Ethan up to a semi-private room at the obstetrics and androcology wing of the hospital. The other bed in it is empty, which Grayson is glad because he doesn't want to deal with nosy hospital room neighbors at the moment.

There is a knock on the door a few minutes later, where a petite brunette stands. "Hi, I'm Dr. Clarissa Hofner. I'm the androcologist on shift. Call me Clarissa." She introduces herself, walking towards Grayson and shaking his hand.

"Grayson," he responds softly.

A nurse comes in pushing a cart with a monitor on top. "Thanks, Lizzy, I will take it from here." Clarissa tells the nurse. She then positions the cart next to Ethan's bed. "Alright, Grayson. As Dr. Cooper should have informed you the baby's vitals are good. This is just procedure to ensure nothing we might not have seen with the other test comes as a surprise later." She explains, turning on the machine.

"Okay," Grayson agrees.

He watches as she pulls Ethan's hospital gown over his belly, keeping the sheet under it to maintain his privacy. Clarissa squeezes the gel out, and Grayson's eyes roam over Ethan's face waiting to hear him complain about how cold it is. But Ethan doesn't even twitch. Grayson instinctively grabs Ethan's wrist, over his pulse, to ground himself.

"Here we go." Clarissa announces, and starts moving the wand over the swell.

Grayson stares at the screen intently, as Clarissa explores the extent of Ethan's pregnant belly.

"Uterus looks really good." She explains, "let's hear the heartbeat," Clarissa presses a button on the monitor and suddenly the silence is gone.

Grayson exhales relieved, shoulders dropping from his tense stance. He blinks away the burning sensation in his eyes and his hand tightens around Ethan's.

"That sounds like a pretty healthy boy to me," Clarissa declares happily.

Grayson gapes, "Boy?"

"Oh, you didn't-" She stutters apologetic. "Was it a surprise? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't-"

"No, no." Grayson cuts her off. "We wanted to know. He wouldn't let us see in the previous sonograms."

"Ah, got it."

"It's a boy," Grayson murmurs awed.

"Yes, congratulations."

"And you are sure he's okay? Ethan said he wasn't moving."

"He's completely fine, Grayson. I'm betting he got a bit scared with all the ruckus and that's why he wouldn't move. Must've got awfully shy. Does Ethan's partner know what happened? About the fall?"

Grayson doesn't say anything for a moment but then with her expectant, waiting eyes on him, he says, "No, but I'll call him. He's at work. Out of town. Probably won't make it in."

She smiles and nods sympathetically, "Well, I guess that's what he has you for, huh?"

"Yeah," Grayson nods.

There's a moment of silence in which the doctor turns back to look at the screen.

"Thank you," Grayson says honestly.

"Just doing my job." Clarissa answers, cleaning up the gel and lowering Ethan's gown. "Good luck to you both." She wishes before leaving the room.

"Hear that E? We are having a boy and he's fine. Now all you have to do is wake up." Grayson whispers, rubbing his thumb against the inside of Ethan's smooth, pale wrist.

-

Waking up in a hospital again isn't how Ethan thought his evening would end up. He couldn't remember what had happened to him, but Grayson had filled up the blanks. He's glad the baby is fine, and that their kid finally decided to go full frontal for them and now they could start using he instead of it.

They let him leave the hospital the following afternoon with his promise to rest for a week until the concussion clears out and come back to get the four stitches in his head off at the end of it. The trip back is less than pleasant, as the car makes him dizzy and nauseous. But he makes it to the house without going through the shame of puking on the car like a fat kid at the fair having road the roller coaster one too many times.

Ethan exhales contently as soon as the car is in the garage. Being back home, having one at all, will always give him a sense of safety that becoming a YouTuber and moving to such a bustling, dog-eat-dog, overwhelming city like L.A. never could. There's a serene sense of peace knowing one is hidden from the world, for the most part.

Grayson gets out of the car, going around to get Ethan's crutches from the back seat, while Ethan opens his door and swings his legs out of the car.

Grayson gives him a doubtful look. "Do you need me to help-"

Ethan scolds him, because seriously, he's not an invalid and he's not up for Grayson's mother henning right now.

Grayson backs up, hands up in surrender.

Ethan hoists himself up to his good foot, and gets the crutches under his arms before hobbling towards the door. Once inside he goes straight to his and Grayson's room, glad there is no stairs hopping needed. He's aware Grayson is behind him hovering, but he ignores it for the bed that's looking very inviting. Ethan melts into the mattress as soon as he is horizontal, barely able to hear whatever Grayson is saying in that annoyed tone of his. Then he feels hands on his injured leg, and he opens one eye just in time to see Grayson putting a pillow under it.

"I'll be right back." Grayson informs, and then leaves.

Ethan nods, his ability to stay awake minimizing by the second. He actually dozes off because he startles awake when Grayson comes back depositing a glass of water and Ethan's pain pills on the bedside table.

"You want something to eat?" Grayson asks softly, eyes tired.

Ethan takes a minute to take in Grayson's dropped shoulders, the light stubble, and the beginning shadow of dark circles under his eyes. And he's faced with how much this incident affected Grayson, making him feel guilty for scaring him that way.

He shakes his head slowly.

"Okay, I will let you sleep then. Holler if you need anything." Grayson instructs, ready to leave again.

Ethan grabs his wrist and pulls him toward the bed.

"E, I got stuff to do-"

"It will still be there after you sleep." Ethan responds stubbornly.

Grayson opens his mouth, no doubt to argue further, but seems to think better of it and just sighs. "Alright, just for a few minutes."

Ethan smirks, and scoots over without jarring his bruised ribs too much, while Grayson makes sure the pillow under Ethan's foot goes with him.

Grayson lies on his side of the bed gingerly. Just like it happened to Ethan, as soon as his head hits the pillow, he melts and all the tension leaves his body.

"Not such a bad idea after all, isn't it Gray?" Ethan teases.

"Shut up," Grayson retorts, smiling softly.

They fall into silence, the tiredness and softness of the mattress lulling them into sleep. But just then, a flutter of movement in his belly grips Ethan out of his slumber. He can't help but smirk, and rub his hand soothingly over where he feels the ripple stronger, happy that their kid is making his presence known, at least to Ethan, again.

"Is he moving?" Grayson asks sleepily.

Ethan looks at him and smiles. "Yeah."

"Wish I could feel him."

"At the rate he's moving, I don't think it will take long." Ethan muses.

Grayson places a hand over where Ethan is still rubbing his belly, smile tugging at his lips, before he locks eyes with Ethan. "Can you promise me to take better care of yourself?"

Ethan sighs. "Gray."

"That was really scary, man. In the scale of things we've gone through, this seems mindless now. But just the thought-"

"I know." Ethan cuts in. He doesn't want to hear what could have happened, and that it was sheer luck they are lying here with nothing to feel the lost for. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for being you."

"Yeah, well, so much for that."

Grayson turns on his side, his head resting on his free hand. "I know how hard the changes you're going through are for you."

Ethan crunches up his nose. "You say it like I can't deal with it."

"Don't be an idiot." Grayson berates. "Of course, you can handle it. You are the strongest person I know, E-"

"Oh, shut up. You're killin' me."

"-no. I mean it. If anyone can turn a daring situation into a good outcome that's you. But that doesn't mean you can't feel overwhelmed or ask for help. I'm right here."

Ethan scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I know, Gray."

"Then don't forget." Grayson says, softer.

"Okay. I hear ya," he agrees.

"Good." Grayson nods. "I'll keep repeating it, until you get it in that thick skull of yours. I'm serious."

"Oh, goody." Ethan retorts sarcastically.

"Get used to it."

Ethan thinks about what Grayson said, and makes a deal with himself to slow down. Even when they have not been in the spotlight for months, his brain keeps working like a Youtuber and he has to find a way to balance it with what their lives are now. He needs, wants, to keep this baby safe and for that he has to accept how things have changed and would keep changing.

"Baby's not moving anymore, I think you bored our kid with all your Dr. Phil talking." Ethan sneers for good measure.

"You're such an ass." Grayson scoffs, turning his back to Ethan for that.

Ethan snorts, pleased with himself.

"I know what you are but what am I?"

"An ass."

"Shut up, Gray."

\---

Grayson goes back to work after two days. A part of him is worried about leaving Ethan alone when he's still recovering from the concussion. But he's glad to be out of the house because they would end up killing each other if they spend any more time holed up together. It's all Ethan's fault for not letting him help when Grayson should be helping, then they end up yelling, and Ethan throwing whatever he has near at Grayson's head like it's a target practice. Grayson would, for the first time in his life, love it if Ethan didn't have such a good aim.

So, yeah, he's much better taking some time off from the crazy-concussed-hormonal man he has at home. But it doesn't stop him from calling home any chance he has to check on Ethan, which with how slow work tends to be in the middle of the week it's almost every hour. Ethan of course doesn't appreciate the concern and they end up having another fight until Grayson hangs up the desk phone more forcefully than he should, and scares an old lady browsing the books near him.

Damn Ethan and his stupid "I'm fine" macho shit motto.

By the time he has to go home, he stops to pick up some Italian food and a small velvet for dinner, and he has cooled down enough to admit he might be acting a bit crazy too.

The house is quiet when he comes in, only the faint glare of the television and the unfolded blanket on the couch in the living room announces that Ethan is home. Grayson leaves the bags with the food on the kitchen counter that faces the living room and it's about to call for him when Ethan limps with one crutch out of the bathroom.

He stops when he sees Grayson. "You're back early." He says surprised.

"Work was really slow." Grayson answers, shrugging. "I brought dinner?" He smirks sheepishly.

Ethan glances at the food briefly. "Cake?"

"Of course."

Ethan smiles widely, then reaches for the bags. But Grayson shoos his hands away.

"You can't carry those and the crutch at the same time," he explains when Ethan gives him a dirty look.

"I could, if you let me." Ethan mutters, limping back to the living room.

Grayson rolls his eyes, and grabs the food before joining Ethan on the sofa. He's barely sitting before Ethan steals the bags from him, and Grayson can't help the fond smile that spreads over his face at the way Ethan beams when he sees the lasagna.

"Alright, you're forgiven." Ethan states, digging into his lasagna with gusto.

Grayson chuckles shaking his head, happy their fighting is over; well, for now.

They watch an 80s action movie while finishing their respective dinners, and Ethan his beloved piece of cake. It's still so new to Grayson how domestic their lives have turned. They have truly embraced the normal, out-of-the-spotlight life. And yet, Grayson doesn't feel like he's going to miss it. All he ever wanted for him and Ethan was for them to be safe. Happy.

He's happy with Ethan here, and sometimes he wakes up at night with nightmares about things that don't matter anymore. Collabs. Clout. Dog-eat-dog L.A. Wakeheart. Monetization. Money.

No more. No one will find them. It's just him and Ethan and their baby growing in Ethan's belly.

It seems kind of easy to bury those thoughts, when Ethan looks at him like Grayson is his universe. And Grayson can just stop worrying about everything as long as Ethan is next to him. Even when they have stupid fights, and some days don't see eye to eye (especially when Ethan is particularly hormonal), Grayson wouldn't have it any other way.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ethan asks, eyebrows furrowed. And Grayson realizes that he must have been staring too long, but all he cares about is the smudge of velvet cake next to Ethan's lips and how much he wants to lick it off.

So he does.

It never ceases to wonder him how easy Ethan melts into him. His rather big, tough, manly brother, who protests at every emotional talk, but gives himself open to Grayson with just one touch.

Grayson swallows Ethan's approving moan along with the lingering taste of the lasagna sauce and the sweetness on Ethan's lips. It gets heated pretty quickly, because when they are together like this, they are a fire to be reckon with. Ethan welcomes Grayson's tongue eagerly, hands moving and pulling until they are as close as Ethan's baby bump will allow them to be in this position. With the make out session heating up their blood, Grayson moves over Ethan, pulling him down on the sofa where he can rut his crotch against Ethan's with the thrust of his hips. It has been a few days since they were this intimate, what with Grayson working long hours and Ethan's accident. And Grayson will totally love to take this to their bedroom if he can manage to detach himself from Ethan's mouth. He's about to do it, when he feels a push against his ribs just as Ethan gasps, surprised.

Grayson pushes off him enough to look at his belly. "Was that a-?"

"Yeah," Ethan answers smiling softly at his baby bulge.

Grayson gapes.

"He's doing it again," Ethan informs, grabbing Grayson's hand and placing it on the side of the belly where their son is kicking.

"Holy crap," Grayson whispers awed.

"Told you it wouldn't be long." Ethan chuckles, then winces.

"Is he hurting you?" Grayson asks worried.

"Nah, it's just a bit uncomfortable because he's right on my ribs." Ethan assures.

Grayson crawls back until his face is right over Ethan's belly. "Hey, you." He says lovingly to his son.

"Seriously?" Ethan protests.

Grayson ignores him. "I'm really glad to finally feel you, but how about you go to sleep now, huh?" he asks, rubbing Ethan's belly softly until the baby stops moving. He glances up to where Ethan has been quiet and isn't too surprised of the adoring, intimately soft expression Ethan is giving him.

"You're such a chick sometimes," Ethan whispers, his voice lacking any of the usual heat or sarcasm that accompanies such a remark all the time.

Grayson gives kisses to his belly tenderly.

Pulling away after Ethan threads his hand into his hair, he inquires, "Bed?"

"Yeah." Ethan nods.

Grayson stands up quickly, and then pulls Ethan up, handing him the crutch. Once both on their feet, they make their way to their bedroom and get into bed. The happiness of feeling their infant move for the first time and feeling closer to the baby than ever before, has Grayson's teeth on display even as he starts to drift to sleep. His hands find his way toward the baby bump protectively. This time Ethan doesn't protest and joins his own hand over to Grayson's. Interlaced fingers. Soft and smooth and warm.

Whatever the future waits for them. However hard things can be. One thing is for sure: they are keeping their little one safe and happy.


	6. Sunlight Through the Barren Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Grayson are living in a sleepy little town in 19th century New Jersey when both are kidnapped by two separate vampire clans. Turned, Grayson is heavily abused and tortured by his sadistic captive while Ethan is not. Forty years later Ethan is finally able to rescue him but the only problem is...Grayson has absolutely no recollection of who Ethan is.

6\. 

Ethan and Grayson, 16

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson

\---

Grayson was turned into a vampire in 1842.

It was hard to think of his life Before.

His sire's name was James Whitlocke, the worst man that Grayson had the displeasure to ever meet. He was taken from his family when he was just sixteen, late at night, the sky dark and the streets empty. He wasn't aware of what was happening until he was basically dead, sucking blood from the man's wrist hungerly, having been practically drained of blood himself.

James had held Grayson captive for forty years, chaining him to a wall, breaking his bones daily for the pleasure of hearing them crack! under the force of his hand, bleeding him nearly dry with knives rusted and used, before Grayson started to heal and he would start it all over again. Twice Grayson had escaped, never getting far. The devil had men posted all over town, taking him down easily, dragging him back to his own personal hell. He started to lose his faith in God.

He even tried to kill himself once, wanted to end the torment he was forced to endure. He wasn't learned in the ways of vampire lore, being sheltered in the dungeon that was his home, but he watched James when he killed his minions that didn't do a good enough job. He knew that you had to bleed a vampire out, behead it, or even burn it to ash. He tried to bleed himself dry, cutting and slashing at his flesh quietly and softly at first, then quicker when he realized that it wasn't working. James had caught him, making him drink, making him heal, and his torture only became worse.

James went from breaking his bones to subjecting Grayson to hours of sunlight and holy oil baths. His skin was constantly red and blistered, unable to move without pain seeping from his pores. He stopped crying after a decade of James's torture, almost becoming numb. He still felt it, don't mistake that, he felt every blister and cut and bone being broken. He stopped reacting. That was his sire's attraction, the reaction.

(Why...why can't I remember you...?)

He'd heard that the reason he turned Grayson before he started torturing him was the fact that humans died too easily. James grew tired of them dying before he was done with them, grew tired of feeding them. All he had to feed Grayson was the blood he left inside of an innocent, dead and cold before Grayson got his hands on the corpse.

He starved, not getting the blood he needed to grow his vampiric strength or heal properly. For forty years, he was weak, and thin, and he couldn't fight back. For forty years, he memorized the names of all those who entered his maker's home, keeping a list in his head. He memorized the faces, the names, the possible locations he could find them.

In the summer of 1882, Grayson's "Sunbaths" were extended, lasting almost as long as the day. When the sun set, he was pulled from the sunroom and shoved into a small cement room, left to heal what he could before the sun rose and it all started again.

He didn't sleep anymore. He tried to the first couple years he was captured (dream-dreams of familiar brown eyes, familiar hands on his own, who are you, who are you?! Why do we look so alike?) catching a few hours every couple days to try and get his energy up but now, now he didn't even try. He had tried then, wanting to be free. Now he was just a shell of what he'd been before, stuck in time and stuck in hell.

(The face...that familiar, lovely face, twisted in pain as the man grabbed him from the back, yanking him away...the lantern smashing to the ground in the struggle, flames licking at the wood, James pulling him away into the dark, his human breath in the cold night air, his voice screaming after the one being dragged away from him...the one with warmth...the one that was lying in the bed beside him so calm and peaceful...who are you?)

One day, the guards didn't come to drag him from his room and into the sun. Grayson was left in his cement room, no concept of time, rotting away. He resigned himself to the fate that James had grown tired of him, left him to die.

He was happy on one hand, to be free of his continuous torture. On the other hand, he was furious, irrevocably irate, that he'd been abandoned, left to die a slow death. He repeated the names in his head long after his mouth stopped working and his throat was too dry.

He thought he started to hallucinate at some point because he started hearing noises all around him, scrapings on the wall, and footsteps in the halls. Maybe the ghosts who'd lived in this room before him were coming to visit. Maybe they would put him out of his misery.

The door to his room opened, moonlight flooding in, burning Grayson's unused eyes. James had come back, he thought. He was back and he wasn't done.

The man who filled the doorway wasn't one of James's men, not that Grayson could remember.

He was still a vampire though.

That much he could smell.

Sparkling brown eyes looked back at him. The man looked frozen like a statue. He looked barely old enough to be considered a man but, in truth, Grayson knew that looks could be deceiving when it came to his kind. The man had the expression of that of looking into a pool of cool water having been in the desert for so long.

"Gray, oh God."

If Grayson could talk, he would be asking a million questions right about now. But his words were behind his eyes, curiosity filling them, along with fear and relief. The young man, probably no older than he look-wise smelled of vanilla and freshly made leather. The stranger tilted his head, eyes focused on Grayson.

Then he moved, lightning fast, was grabbing his face, looking into his eyes, breathing the same air as he. Tears of blood were streaming down his face, thick and dark. It flicked off his strong jaw and Grayson blinked in stunned silence when the stranger said, "Gray, it's me. It's Ethan."

And began kissing his cheeks with enough visceral fervor it made Grayson jerk back in fear.

Who was this vampire?

After a moment, the stranger pulled back, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, saying with a weakening, pleading voice, "Grayson?"

Grayson just looked back at him, trying to figure out how he knew his name, who this person was. Everything had deteriorated over the last forty years, rusting with the pain of his hell, the agony of burnt flesh.

Was he from....Before?

Realization struck the stranger's face and twisted it into an anguished expression, an appearance Grayson thought for a moment that he may have seen before, "You don't remember me, do you?"

When Grayson did not answer, the vampire's eyes seemed to flash with a kind of realization and for a moment he was still. Then, he straightened his shoulders, wiped the tears from his eyes and swallowed thickly.

"Can you move?" The voice was deep, full of gravel.

Unable to move even his head, Grayson continued to stare at him. He watched his eyes as they traveled his body and then to his face once more.

Of course, he couldn't move.

Grayson rolled his eyes, closing them. This vampire was going to take him, maybe keep him prisoner too. He was resigned, broken, unable to voice his protest or fight against him. To fight against this familiar looking, mad vampire that somehow knew his name, had kissed him like Grayson was air and he but a dying man lacking oxygen.

The vampire picked Grayson up easily, being nothing more than a skeleton covered in skin. "My name is Ethan." The stranger introduced himself, making his way through the halls and through the front entrance. Grayson didn't say anything, feeling so close to this vampire, inhaling his scent, looking up at his thick black hair billowing lightly in the low-lying wind, his dark eyebrows, his concerned, youthful face. The stranger looked down at him again and said softly:

"I'm going to feed you, if that's pleasing to you. It looks like you haven't fed in a while, so you'll have to take in my blood first, to heal you and strengthen your body and blood."

Grayson was confused, scared. He was carried through the dark city, back street after back street before Ethan finally walked up to a large manor, windows aglow with candlelight. The building was made of pale stone, large and grand. He was carried through the main entrance, passed a considerably large number of servants and other vampires who seemed to live here. At first he didn't want to be lifted from this Ethan's arms but then he reassured him, "I'm right here. I shall not go any further."

He was placed on a soft couch carefully, resting against the back, unable to move. He watched as Ethan ordered a servant to retrieve something, hearing abilities lacking due to blood loss. The young woman returned with a goblet and dagger on a silver tray, handing it to the vampire.

Ethan sat next to Grayson, tray on his lap. "Alright, I'll let some blood and I may have to force it down your throat. It may seem unpleasant, uncomfortable even." He looked a bit weary. "My blood is strong. But with the amount of damage you've sustained, it may take several weeks before you are strong enough to move around on your own." He cut his wrist, holding it over the glass, watching it fill. His wrist healed; blood slightly smeared around the now invisible wound.

Grayson's mouth watered, his fangs distending. Pain shot through his mouth, fangs having been unused for some time. He could smell the blood, smell the power in it. He wanted it, if he could, he'd gulp it down in one swift swallow.

The other vampire set the dagger and tray aside, leaning closer to Grayson. "I apologize in advance."

There was a peculiar kind of pain in the vampire's eyes that Grayson couldn't quite understand why it was so present. It wasn't an external kind of anguish, but internal. It certainly wasn't the cut that was causing such an expression.

He pulled Grayson's stiff jaw open, avoiding his fangs. The blood was poured past his lips, over his dry tongue, and down his throat. Ethan had to run his hand down Grayson's neck, attempting to work the blood down his unused throat.

Warmth spread through Grayson's stomach, lighting his insides on fire. In over forty years, he'd never had something so delicious anywhere near him. The bouquet of scent and flavor releasing from the blood being poured down his throat was so majestic, so delicious. He closed his eyes, savoring what he could. He could feel his pupils expand; his member would harden if his body had proper responses.

It was absolutely divine.

The goblet empty and set aside, Ethan wiped at a stray droplet of blood that made its way down Grayson's chin. Worry flickered behind his eyes. "After all this time. We finally found you. God, Gray." The vampire shook his head, bloody tears springing forth from his eyes again. Grayson stared up at this Ethan as the vampire began to weep again. He had never seen another vampire cry before, and he found it odd that this particular one wouldn't stop doing it. What was wrong with him? Shakily, the stranger wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and then ran his hand through Grayson's dirty hair, staring down at him with blood shot eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I-I knew you weren't dead. I knew that they had to have turned you. I could feel it. Feel it in my heart. I love you so much." He leaned down and kissed the top of Grayson's head.

Grayson worked his throat, swallowing the remainder of the blood and fresh flowing saliva. He could feel the blood work its way through his muscles and to him bones, his skin flushed and slowly starting to heal in front of his eyes. He couldn't move yet; he probably wouldn't be able to for some time.

"W-who." His voice was harsh with ill use. Grayson licked his lips and tried again. "Who are you?" 

He wouldn't force himself to talk much, not yet. His throat was still sore, his body stiff.

"I d-don't know you."

But the vampire frowned even deeper, "I'm Ethan. I'm your twin. I'm your brother."

The fear spiked in Grayson's chest as his reply, at the way he was running his hand through his hair, trying to comfort him. No. No he wasn't. He never had a family Before. It had always been the insensate agony, the constant forced healing, the veracious hunger clinging to his stomach like a leech, eating itself like a serpent may eat its own tail, a never-ending cycle of hell.

This Ethan was clearly mad, madder than he, if he thought they were of any relations, if there was any connect from Before. As far as Grayson could recollect, James had always owned him. There was nothing but a barren null and void beyond that, a dusk that only flickered to light in the deepest of dreams. Afraid of the vampire's delusions, Grayson felt like panicking.

"Shhh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," the vampire mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Don't be upset, please."

Grayson tried to calm himself, the weakness pulling at his body just as much as he felt his body continuing to strengthen with the new delicious blood flowing through his veins. With pensive eyes, the stranger ran a hand through his hair, told him, "It's alright. Shhhh. I'm alright."

Then, the vampire seemed to try to hold himself together, turning his eyes away for a moment and then looking back once more upon Grayson's lying form.

"It's quite alright, Gray. No one is ever going to hurt you again." He stood, handing the goblet to a servant. "Would you like a bath?"

The thought of cleansing himself made Grayson realize just how filthy he was. He nodded his stiff neck, slowly and with pain. Being picked up again, he was whisked up the stairs and down several winding hallways. Ethan led them into a grand room, candles lit and huge bed nestled in the center of the room.

"This will be your room." Ethan placed Grayson down on bench at the foot of the bed, making his way into a room leading from the bedroom. He came back, scissors in hand. "It's yours until you no longer need it."

Grayson eyed the scissors. He'd had a week devoted to those: stabbing, cutting, and twisting. He shuddered, trying to lean away from Ethan.

Ethan lowered the scissors, frown forming on his face. "I wanted to make the removal of your clothes easier." He looked at Grayson, brown eyes intense. "I could tear the fabric from you?"

Grayson nodded; eyes still trained on the scissors. He did not look back at Ethan until he placed the shears in a drawer. "Thank...you."

He ground out the words, body shaking. He could feel his limbs again, feel the pain sending shocks of electricity through his body.

The vampire gave Grayson a small smile, stepping forward. Taking Grayson's tattered clothes in his hands, he delicately tore then along the seams until Grayson sat nude, shaking. "Did you want me to call one of the servants to bathe you?"

Grayson shook his head, shaking at the thought of someone else touching him. "No, you." He flexed his fingers, joints popping. "Trust you."

And somehow Grayson did. If felt like an old muscle, this trust. A trust he hadn't had for another being; it was stunning to him how much he trusted this stranger; something deep within him felt as though this Ethan, this poorly deranged vampire, would not hurt him. No matter how much he was convinced that they were somehow related. He didn't want anyone else to lay his hands on him.

Ethan carried him to the tub, slipping Grayson into the warm water. He washed Grayson slowly, calculating. It seemed that he was mentally cataloguing the injuries that he could find on the surface of his skin. If only he knew the amount of damage Grayson had suffered under his skin.

Once Grayson was clean, the water tinged dark with the filth and dried blood, he was dressed in soft sleep clothes and placed in the plush bed. The constant, thrumming blaze in the hearth was lit and warming the room. Comforting.

Ethan did not say anything when he felt although Grayson felt his eyes on him as he turned to his side, laying his cheek upon the soft down pillow and slept.

The next several weeks lead in a similar manner. He would wake up, keep himself busy until Ethan came home by reciting the names of James's men. Once he was well enough, Grayson started to write the names down on paper, over and over.

And as the weeks went by Grayson fell in a comfortable rhythm with the vampire Ethan. In sleep, he'd have particular dreams...strange dreams about Ethan. He and Ethan, in another time. In another life.

("Gray!" Ethan giggled as he pushed his brother to the ground. Rolling, Grayson made a noise of discontent, pushing up quickly and running after a fleeing Ethan down the cobblestone streets of the city they were visiting. Mother was in a shop buying flour to make biscuits. Once he caught up to him, he tackled Ethan to the ground gently, not wanting to hurt him as they rolled in the street, laughing hysterically at their game. "Oe," came a shopkeeper's voice, "move on, 'ya scoundrels. I'm tryin' to sell me merchandise and ya blocking the door.")

The vampire would serve his blood to Grayson, bathing him after. Even when Grayson could start to make his way around, Ethan would still bathe him. Quietly. Softly. Ethan didn't talk about what he had said, said about being a twin and knowing him from Before, although when he did catch he and himself in the mirror as he stepped out of the bath, he realized, quite shocked, that despite the hollowness still in Grayson's slowly plumping cheeks, they did look frightfully similar.

(Warm lips pressed against his own on the shared bed. Darkness, hands slipping beneath his night gown softly, rubbing his hips. Foreheads pressed together in the humid, delicate dark, breath warm and wet. Nearly silent. The smell of old leather, of the greasy fat of dead pork, of a blown-out candle, the wind wiping softly against the dusky, ragged roof.)

To be honest, Grayson relished in the touch. The only touch that Grayson had felt in the last forty years was in anger and rage. The feeling of Ethan's hands on his body felt amazing, bringing Grayson a kind of lovely joy. His muscles grew every day, his frame filling out, and his body growing strong.

As his body started to heal, his scars remained, ugly and garish. No matter the amount of healthy vampiric blood he was fed, if a vampire's bones are broken over and over, healing was almost impossible. The bones would heal crooked, pain remaining under the skin. Wounds that were open for years healed to an extent that the skin would close but still felt raw. He felt like he was rolled in a liquid fire.

He grew closer to Ethan; he noticed that the vampire did not cry so profusely anymore, which relieved him as he had gotten into the habit that if emotions were rushing through Ethan's own demeanor, he couldn't help but sympathize with him; he grew emotional too, almost irrationally so. With every feeding it was becoming more looked forward to. He felt a connection to him. Unsure of if it was the fact that Ethan rescued him from hell or the fact that his blood was running through his veins was the cause of his attraction, Grayson knew he couldn't deny what he felt.

Or perhaps it was something else, the reason why he felt himself loving Ethan.

Perhaps with time, Grayson was regaining his memories piece by piece, through his healing, through Ethan's touch, through his dreams. And yet, he still wasn't so sure, wasn't so sure that this angel was his angel from Before, the one who he had wanted to spend his whole life with, no matter what others would think, would say, would do to them if they found out.

Grayson limped into the study, finding Ethan standing at the fireplace, reading a letter. He quietly sat on one of the couches, picking at his pants. The vampire stayed quiet; head bowed. Grayson's eyes scanned his back, admiring the slim width of his youthful shoulders, the set of his stance, and the slight curves that led to his waist.

"Is this all of them?" Ethan's voice rumbled, interrupting Grayson's thoughts. He turned, letter falling into Grayson's lap. It wasn't a letter. It was the list of James's men. The pages of the names that Grayson's forced himself to memorize.

"Is this every one of them that touched you?"

Grayson's eyes snapped to Ethan's, surprised to see rage in his eyes. "I... yes. The names I could remember."

Ethan kneeled down at Grayson's feet, hands poised gently on his knees, searching his eyes. "Gray, tell me. If I located these men, what would your next actions be?"

Grayson closed his eyes, shuddering at the memories of his years of torture. "I would find them. I would find them and make them hurt the way that they hurt me." Tears formed in his eyes, voice shaking. "I would put them through hell."

The vampire moved fast, pulling a knife from his boot. He cut gently then deeply into his wrist, blood spilling from the cut. He climbed onto the couch, holding his wound close to Grayson.

Drinking directly from the source was nothing Grayson had done. His meals were either already dead from James or fresh in a glass since he's been here. He searched Ethan's eyes before pulling his wrist to take a drink. His fangs distended, saliva flooding his mouth. The blood was pure, untainted by the glass or goblet he's used before. Blood spilled down his chin, staining his clothes red.

And then, Grayson remembered. It was like a dam broke inside him, spilling out. He yanked away, closed his eyes, the blood drippling down his throat hot and delicious, the fire behind his eyes building. The memories came flooding back so strong that Grayson moaned, jerking back.

Mother. Father. The house, the little school house of youth, the fear, the hunger, the joy, the love, the cobble streets, the warmth of the sunlight against his skin, the smell of freshly written books, the blotches of ink, the smell of cooked meat and bread and vegetables, real food, food that made him salivate. No blood or suffering. Soft sheets, laughter, a pair of brown eyes not unlike his own. The smell of him.

Ethan.

"Take me inside you. Feel me there." Ethan panted, eyes black. "Do you feel me racing through you, making you strong?"

"E." Came Grayson's voice, breaking the other vampire out of his feverish concentration. Grayson blinked, eyes focusing on his twin's.

Their eyes met, stilled in perfect concentration.

"D-do you?" Ethan gapped, almost tumbling off the couch at the new, bright recognition in his eyes. He hadn't seen that look for four decades. Forty torturous years.

"Yes." He said, simply, grasping onto Ethan's face.

He lunged forward, his mouth hot and feverish. He knew Ethan could taste the blood on his tongue, could taste the arousal filling Grayson. His breeches were growing tight and uncomfortable, filling with his erection.

His Ethan. E. E. E. Finally, there. After so long years. Stuck at the age of fertile blamelessness just as he was, turned against his will just as he was, but with two different outcomes.

"Oh, Gray," tears streamed down his cheeks once more, bloody and red, and Grayson gently lapped at them with his wet tongue, tasting him, and finding it insufficient in cleaning him, rubbed the cuff of his sleeves against him until his cheeks were dry.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he said between kisses, rubbing his thumbs against Ethan's jawline, licking into his mouth.

"I'm here." Grayson breathed.

"I know." Ethan replied.

"You saved me."

"I thought I lost you. First, of the body. Secondly, of the mind."

"I'm here. I'm healed. I remember. I remember everything."

"Can I?"

"Yes, E. Yes."

Ethan picked Grayson up similar to the way he did when he was weak and carried him swiftly to his room. He laid the vampire on the bed, kissing his way down his chest.

"You smell so good. I want to taste you." Ethan whispered, "Please, Gray. Let me taste you."

Grayson moaned, exposing his neck, "Bite me. Make love to me."

Ethan moved up Grayson's body, licking his neck. His fangs extend, finding their place on his bare throat. He pulled at the sweet ambrosia pooling from Grayson's neck, swallowing thickly. The taste was so amazing, Ethan could have reached heaven right there, without even being touched.

Grayson moaned lovingly at the intrusion. A thought occurred to him that they were tied now, blood shared between the two more profoundly than ever before. It wouldn't matter how many humans Ethan drained, how many other beings he would donate his blood to help heal him, he belonged to Ethan, and Ethan belonged to Grayson. They had a blood bond, a profound bond. Mates.

Together. Having found each other once again. Never to part. Never. Not even death would pull them from each other's grasp, from each other's heavy, loving arms.

Ethan pulled back, leaning over to retrieve a small silver pot of what looked like oil. Grayson flinched away, reminded of the holy oil he was subjected to. Ethan never missed his expression, any scattered emotion. He felt Grayson's fear and ran a gentle hand through his hair, kissing his cheek tenderly and then pulling away.

He dipped his finger in the oil, smearing it on his own skin, only his throat. "This is to ease my way in."

Grayson settled slightly, eyeing the pot. He leaned forward, sniffing. The scent of lavender and spice wafted up under his nose. Nothing like what the holy oil stunk of. He settled even further, comforted by the look in Ethan's eyes, his hands, the promises he made between feverish kisses. 

Ethan placed the oil on the stand, whipping his shirt over his head, revealing toned flesh, pale as it had been as he was human. They were taken when it was winter, after all. His flesh was surprisingly slightly marked, scars from years of life and fighting within the coven he was thrown into. And yet, they were nothing like the scars Grayson endured. Grayson reached up, softly stroking his thumb over one of the scars on Ethan's chest.

Tears swell in his eyes, expression hard. "Whoever did this to you? Are they still living?"

Ethan's brows knitted together. "What do you think?"

He leaned forward, stripping Grayson's shirt as well, eyes never leaving his face. "I did to them what I'll do to the men who hurt you, Gray."

Grayson raised his hands to pull at the ties and buttons of Ethan's trousers. "Yes. We'll do it. Together."

Ethan kissed down Grayson's chest, licking his tongue over his nipples, giving attention to both reddening buds. He flicked his fingers and tore Grayson's new breeches, tearing them at the seams.

He was bare now, hard member exposed to the drafts of cool air flowing through the room. He whined when Ethan grabbed his prick and started lightly stroking. He'd never been given such attention, even before he was taken. They touched, sure. But not quite like this. Grayson was fairly inexperienced, a few kisses and whispers shared in the night between them before they were taken, but never a hot hand on his penis, giving him pleasure. He could tell Ethan was just as inexperienced having never given up on the hope of finding Grayson.

The only touch Grayson had felt in the last forty years were filled with hate, malice, and sadistic thoughts. Never anything like this. Though still weak, Grayson felt stronger than he's ever felt. He couldn't kneel with the damage still slowly healing to his knees and shins, but he could lay there and be loved, delivering back what love he could in touches, kisses, and bites.

When damp fingers touched his hole, Grayson moaned, anticipating the intrusion. When a single finger breeched him, he felt the stretch he craved Ethan above him. His breath was fast, his mouth and neck covered in blood. He was sure he made a sight being riddled with such pleasure and so erect.

Ethan slowly added another finger, watching Grayson. He scissored his fingers, stretching him open further.

"Is this okay?" Came Ethan's voice.

"Yes." Yes, yes, yes. It was more than okay.

When his mate's fingers touched something potent inside of him, he lurched from the bed, backed bowed and a cry escaped his lips.

Ethan groaned, watching his fingers stretch Grayson. Like always, he picked up on Grayson's cues, noting his lusty face and gentle hands stroking his cheeks, thumbs creasing his jaw softly.

"Will you do this to me as I do this to you, next? When you're strong enough." Ethan inquired, imagining what it would be like to be in Grayson's place, to feel the pleasure his mate was obviously experiencing.

"Yes, E. Yes." Grayson moaned, nodding his head. He tangled his hands in the sheets as he could smell Ethan with his every movement. Ethan smiled, gently.

The fingers left Grayson quickly only to be replaced with the hot head of Ethan's cock. Both groaned in unison when Ethan started to push in slowly, allowing Grayson to adjust to his size. He thrusted slow and deep for a few moments, waiting for Grayson to be ready.

The feeling of electricity sparked its way through Grayson's body, his cock jumping. "Now, please. Mmmm. Feels so good. Faster. Ah, ah, ah."

Ethan obliged, grabbing and petting Grayson where he could while increasing his thrusts, angling his hips to hit the right spot inside of Grayson. He writhed and whined beneath him.

Grayson cried out, his groin burning and his cock dripping. He was close to release, close to spilling himself.

"E." He panted, moaning into Ethan's neck, licking at the dried blood and sweat. "Ethan, I am close, love."

Ethan's eyes darted to his mate's, full of undying affection. He leaned forward, placing a kiss filled with love and passion, feeling Grayson's hole tighten and milk his member. He swallowed the cry of his own orgasm.

His climax was intense, better than anything Grayson had pulled from his own body. It wracked his frame, he felt it in his bones, in his stomach. He wanted to feel everything.

A few more thrusts, Ethan spilled his seed into Grayson, his ass still contracting and pulsing from his own release.

"Ah, I love you. I love you so much." He fell to the side, lips on Grayson's.

Grayson laughed, eyes sparkling. "I love you too."

Ethan smiled, pulling Grayson into him, not caring for the mess. He rested his chin on Grayson's head, mind slowly progressing from thoughts of him tucked into his side to the revenge he would gift Grayson, the gore and carnage he would commit just to see him at ease.

He would do anything for him.

"I'm so glad you remembered me."

"I am too, E." Grayson rubbed his arm, gently, "I am too."


	7. New Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Grayson are hunters of the supernatural variety and get paid to stop evil. It's not a nine-to-five but it pays the bills. Their town is one of the supernatural hot stops of the U.S.A. On the job, Grayson gets hit with a pretty nasty curse. Chaos and exploration ensue.
> 
> Or the one in which Grayson is cursed by a witch and gets a vagina.

7.

Ethan & Grayson, 24

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson  
\---

By the time the car finally pulled up to their house, Grayson was salivating profusely, a severe grimace on his face while Ethan shot worried glances across the seat.

"Look at me one more time, bro. I swear, bro. No cap!" Grayson growled.

Ethan flushed but didn't let his brother intimidate him. Although sometimes that was hard. Damn biceps. Damn angry, imma-gonna-punch-you face.

"I'm worried about you, Gray! Fuck, man. We have no idea what she made you swallow."

Grayson snarled under his breath. "Fucking witch bitch." Because of course it had been a witch. Though human, witches were often their most dangerous and unpredictable foes of the (asshole) supernatural community. "Fucking disgusting is what it was."

The twins climbed out of the car, Ethan lifting the duffle of weapons out of the backseat as he followed Grayson into the house, up the short flight of stairs, and into their shared bedroom. Although twenty-four, they still shared a room. They just couldn't help it. Setting the bag between the two beds, Ethan found Grayson bent over the sink in the bathroom off to the right, scooping water into his mouth over and over again. Ethan leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the curve of Grayson's back. "Do you feel any side effects?"

Grayson lifted his head and glared at Ethan through the mirror. Spitting into the sink, he reached for the mouthwash. "That was freaking nasty bro, but I'm not feeling anything. Think maybe we got lucky and shooting her stopped whatever it was?" He looked hopeful.

Ethan hated to burst his bubble, but they were never that lucky. No here. Not in this town. "Don't know, but we can hope." He was sure his face wasn't nearly as uplifting. "Dude, I can't even look anything up because it wasn't a spell. I have nothing to go on. She didn't say anything, did she?"

Grayson grimaced and stuck his tongue out in bitter memory at whatever liquid gunk she'd shoved down his throat. Pushing his way past Ethan, Grayson sat on the bed and tugged off his sneakers, thinking. "I don't know. I was a little preoccupied trying to dodge her freaky bony hands."

"Think, Gray. Anything she said could be helpful. We know she was after men who rejected her and then started going after other men in town who were even rude to her."

Grayson rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't remember exactly, but I think she said something about knowing the ache of a woman. Something like that." He gave Ethan a perplexed look.

"Dammit. Okay, that's not much, but it's something to go on if anything happens." Ethan ran both hands through his hair. "We're just going to have to wait it out."

Shedding his dark shirt, Grayson leered at Ethan. "I can think of a more interesting way to wait than just sitting around here twiddling our thumbs."

Ethan watched raptly as Grayson's t-shirt landed on the floor exposing his wide, muscular chest. His mouth watered at the sight and he stepped forward between Grayson's knees. Leaning into kiss Grayson, he reached down to unbutton his pants, yanking the fabric down his legs. Grayson groaned into his mouth and Ethan nipped at his full, warm lips.

Pulling back a fraction, Ethan smirked at him sassily. There was a moment where they just stared at each other and then Ethan gripped Grayson's hips and lifted him and Grayson aided in the effort as he allowed Ethan to shove him up the bed. Ethan's slightly smaller body settled over him.

"Fuck," Grayson groaned, "Love when you manhandle me like that. So fucking hot, E."

Ethan grinned and sealed his mouth over Gray's. "I know."

-

After a rigorous fucking into Ethan's mattress, Grayson had passed out, barely staying awake long enough for Ethan to wipe him down with a wet cloth. Ethan had taken a few minutes to clean up and then climbed into bed behind Grayson, curling an arm around his waist. For all his protests, Grayson loved being held and Ethan indulged both of them regularly.

They'd fallen asleep wrapped around each other and the morning saw them unchanged. Ethan blinked awake and simply lay in bed for a while, running his hand gently back and forth over Grayson's skin. Kissing the back of his neck, Ethan rolled out of bed and went for a shower. It was as he was stepping out and toweling dry that he heard the shout.

Frantic with worry, Ethan bolted for the bathroom door and tugged it open, stumbling into the room over his towel as it fell from his hips. "Gray?" The question came out as an alarmed yell.

"Dude!" Grayson was still in bed, but now he was in a more seated position, leaning back with the blankets thrown to the side so he could stare down at his lap.

Ethan followed his gaze and froze. His brain stalled. "What the hell."

His brain couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, or just wouldn't accept it. Completely nude as he'd fallen asleep, Grayson was sitting in the midst of rumpled sheets, but instead of his thick, large cock resting against his thigh or proclaiming his arousal as it usually would in the morning, the skin parted in a smooth curve between Grayson's legs. "You have a –"

"Pussy," Grayson interrupted. "I have a pussy."

He seemed just as flabbergasted as Ethan.

Hysteric energy exploded into a laugh. "Well now we know what she did to you."

Grayson's eyes finally left his lap and he glared at Ethan. "This isn't funny, E!"

The angry words hurled at him in Grayson's usual morning rasp only made Ethan laugh harder. None of this was really funny, but it was like Ethan's body didn't know how to interpret his current feelings.

It wasn't everyday his twin suddenly acquired a vagina.

After a minute of trying to regain control, Ethan finally pulled himself together. "I'll do some research," he offered, "Try to figure this out."

Grayson swallowed thickly and peered back down at his lap. "Yeah," he whispered. Getting up from the bed, Grayson moved past him looking pale in the face and disappeared into the bathroom.

While Ethan tried to figure out how to research this particular predicament, he shot periodic glances at the bathroom's door. He didn't even feel like going down to the kitchen to get some breakfast, despite his slight hunger. He was a little worried about how this would affect his twin's state of mind. Aside from the typical clatter though, Ethan heard nothing to raise his concern.

A little while later Grayson emerged, just as naked as he'd gone in. There was a determined set to his expression. Ethan watched and waited for Grayson to say what was on his mind. He could see his twin steeling himself.

"I want you to fuck me."

Ethan stared, thinking he imagined his words, or misheard them. "I'm sorry, what?"

Grayson folded his arms across his wide chest defensively, but said with no less conviction, "I want you. To. Fuck. Me."

When Ethan didn't respond right away, Grayson continued, "Come on, E. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. How many dudes get to experience things from the other side?"

Ethan considered Grayson's words and the excitement underlying them. He felt his dick twitch. Apparently, he was on board. At least lil' Ethan was. "You're sure?"

Grayson grinned, his arms dropping back to his sides. "Yeah."

With Grayson's confirmation, Ethan let himself stare. Grayson's brown eyes sparkled with excitement, his body beautiful and the same as always with the exception of the space between his legs. And while it should have looked strange and out of place on his beefy body, a body Ethan knew well, the lightly haired mound was weirdly fitting.

"You look amazing," Ethan breathed. Red flooded Grayson's cheeks and he looked away. Ethan stood. "C'mere," he whispered, extending a hand to Grayson. Suddenly shy, Grayson took a small step forward.

Recognizing the nervousness, Ethan took the initiative to step into Grayson's space. "Still sure?" Grayson met his eyes and nodded. Smiling softly, Ethan reached out and curled his fingers around Grayson's, his other hand cupping the back of his head and pulling him in for a tender kiss. The familiar exchange loosened Gray's stiff limbs and he dragged Ethan closer, stepping into Ethan's body, chests pressed together.

Ethan let the kiss work its magic, his lips and tongue soothing Grayson's nerves, making him pliant in Ethan's hands. As Grayson relaxed, Ethan guided them to the bed, still unmade from the night before.

Gently, he pushed Grayson to sit, smoothing his hands over Grayson's bare shoulders and down his arms. Ethan urged Grayson to scoot back, shedding his own clothes before following him up the mattress. Easing Grayson back until he was lying flat against the pillows, Ethan settled himself at Grayson's side, propped up on his forearm. His twin sought his eyes and Ethan leaned in for a kiss, sucking Grayson's bottom lip between his own.

Sometimes all Ethan wanted was a hard fuck, but there were other times like this that all he craved was the simple intimacy of kisses and gentle hands. Grayson whined into his mouth and Ethan smiled against his lips. Ethan trailed his hands over Grayson's chest, stopping to flick over a nipple. Grayson bit back a moan.

At times, Ethan was tempted to try to make Grayson come solely from playing with his sensitive nipples. Neither of them was ever patient enough nor this time especially Ethan passed on the idea because they both had another goal in mind.

Grayson arched his chest into Ethan's hand, his own hand tugging at Ethan's hip, trying to pull him closer. He gasped as Ethan gave the nipple a hard pinch, plunging his tongue eagerly into Ethan's mouth. After a moment he pulled back. "E, come on." The brown of Grayson's eyes was barely visible, and Ethan shuddered.

Ethan ducked down and sucked a kiss into Grayson's neck, his hand trailing lower. Following its typical path, Ethan's hand brushed over the little hairs of Grayson's treasure trail and then dipped lower. Where he usually encountered the hard, fat length of Grayson's cock jutting out for his attention, Ethan's hand instead followed the new curve of Grayson's mound as his legs parted eagerly.

Ethan sucked in a breath and sought Grayson's gaze, making sure this was still okay. Grayson licked over his bottom lip as he stared back, daring Ethan to stop. Ethan was instantly overwhelmed by the trust Grayson put in him and equally turned on by the brazen invitation. With one last gentle kiss, Ethan broke away to watch as his own fingers ventured into this familiar but foreign part of Grayson's body.

Gently, almost hesitantly, Ethan dipped his fingers between the folds of Grayson's vagina, nudging his legs further apart. Grayson held his breath. "You're so wet," Ethan breathed, staring down in awe. Barely touched and Grayson's center was already soaked, Ethan's fingers shining as he pulled them back.

"Shuddup." Grayson's cheeks were flaming red.

Ethan shook his head, ignoring Grayson. "So hot, man. Your pussy's so fucking wet for me."

"Oh god," Grayson whimpered.

Ethan grinned. "You're amazing. No cap." He was truly awestruck by Grayson and was even more surprised by how much he wanted this. As many times as he'd been with women, as intimately as he knew how to enflame and bring a woman intense pleasure, it was new and infinitely more exciting on this body, the body of his soulmate, his Gray. It was a body he knew and loved so much.

Ethan parted Grayson's parts again, his fingers trailing from the lowest part of Grayson's folds up to his clit and back down again. Grayson keened, and tried to lift his hips into Ethan's hand. Ethan pressed him back down, situating the pad of his thumb right over Grayson's clit, his middle and ring finger positioned to rub over Grayson's slit for the time being.

"E," Grayson sighed, his satisfaction evident. "Please." Ethan rewarded Grayson with tender kisses all over his face and a gentle massaging motion with his thumb. Grayson choked, overcome by the intense pleasure suddenly flooding his body. Ethan moved his thumb faster and watched Grayson tremble. It seemed this new part of his body was more sensitive than either of them expected, Grayson's reactions even more responsive than when Ethan played with his prostate or the gland just beneath the head of his cock. Perhaps it was the newness, the novelty.

Watching Grayson's face, Ethan pressed his thumb harder, making small circular motions. Grayson turned his face away into the pillow and sobbed once, his hips rocking. "So handsome," Ethan whispered. Seeing how relaxed Grayson was, Ethan knew he could handle more. With his fingers now slipping in the insane amount of slick Grayson was producing, he pressed his middle digit inside.

Grayson gasped at the new feeling and tucked his face against Ethan's neck, hiding his face but also trying to get closer. Very gently, Ethan pushed deeper and watched as his finger disappeared inside him. He was so incredibly tight Ethan had to force a deep breath. Slowly he pulled back and pressed in again. "You okay, Gray?" As much as Ethan was enjoying this he had to make sure Grayson was still okay with how things were going.

Eyes somewhat glazed, Grayson nodded. "Another." The whisper was so quiet, Ethan wondered if he'd really heard it and then questioned where his confident larger, bigger twin had gone. Deciding to give Grayson his desire, the next time Ethan pulled his finger out, he followed it back inside with a second. Grayson's jaw fell open at the new sensation.

Ethan continued with the two fingers inside and his thumb on Grayson's clit for the next few minutes, keeping his motions slow and soothing. He would leave it up to Grayson to change the pace. Honestly, with how women had responded to Ethan in the past, he expected Grayson to need more from him. Instead, the continued soft motions had Grayson clutching at Ethan's arm in minutes and brought gasping cries from his lips as he crested, his pussy clenching and throbbing around Ethan's fingers, his hips rolling uncontrollably.

Even afterwards as Ethan pulled his fingers free, now dripping with Grayson's slick, Grayson continued to tremble, small cries escaping his lips. Ethan wrapped his brother in his arms and pulled him tight against his body, shushing him through the aftershocks.

"You're so beautiful Grayson, so perfect. Shh, tell me what you need." Ethan whispered the words in Grayson's ear, soothing his hand down Grayson's back, brushing his fingers through Grayson's hair.

"Just this," Grayson managed, and then trying for a lighter tone, "and maybe a nap. You're a master E!"

Ethan smiled but didn't bother responding. His brother was trying to play off his reactions, and Ethan would let him, but he wouldn't contribute. He simply held Grayson and let himself imagine what else they could do as Grayson drifted off in his arms.

-

After Grayson's midmorning nap, the two of them climbed into the shower, Grayson's legs still weak and Ethan feeling in awe of the man in his arms. Ethan let Grayson lean against him in the shower stall, hot water beating down on them. The opportunity to pamper Grayson rarely arose and he was going to take full advantage. He ran soapy hands over his twin's skin, massaged it into his shoulders and hips, fingers swirling over nipples and then finally between Grayson's thighs.

Grayson's breath caught. For a moment his hands fluttered, unsure exactly what he wanted and then settled on clutching Ethan's hand on his hip and curling up and back around Ethan's neck to hold himself up. Ethan kissed Grayson's temple and forged ahead, having frozen when Grayson tensed.

Now, his hand cupped Grayson's mound, middle finger dipping between shower-wet lips, the tip of his finger prodding gently at Grayson's hole, sliding up to catch on his clit. Air huffed past Grayson's lips. "Okay?" Ethan didn't want to push anything on him.

He could feel the nod against the side of his neck and cheek more than he could see it. Ethan traced his middle finger over the same path a few times, pressing inside to the first knuckle when Grayson's back arched and sent his hips rocking down. "Feel good?"

Grayson's fingers bit into Ethan's on his hip in answer. With a pleased grin, Ethan plunged his finger fully inside, a flood forming around the digit as his brother's juices started flowing. "That's it," Ethan whispered, loving the soft roll of Grayson's hips and the evidence of his pleasure. His cock had grown increasingly interested and rested against Grayson's lower back, pre-come smearing against the skin there. Strangely it felt secondary to everything else and right now he didn't care if he got off. The primary concern was giving Grayson the best experience of his life until they could figure out how to turn him back.

A soft moan echoed in the bathroom and Ethan felt Grayson shake. It truly surprised him how overcome Grayson seemed by the smallest pleasures. Already he could feel himself taking on more of Grayson's weight as the sensations rendered his knees unstable.

"Gray," he said lowly, "how about we finish up in here and continue this," he flicked his finger deeper, "in bed."

It seemed to take Grayson a second to process and then he nodded, response a slurred murmur. "Yeah, kay."

Ethan pulled his hand away and in minutes had them both shampooed and rinsed, ready to get out. He gave them a cursory towel dry and then tugged Grayson back to the bed.

On his own, Grayson knee-walked to the center of the bed and flipped over, thighs parting and baring himself to Ethan's gaze. Ethan gave him a hungry look and mounted the bed. It appeared Grayson was coming back to himself a bit because he returned Ethan's look with a smug smirk, "Come on E, give it to me." The growly rasp of his brother's voice ignited a fire in Ethan and even though the words themselves weren't serious, Ethan set to work as if it had been the fully earnest request he knew it was.

With Grayson's legs parted, Ethan positioned himself between them, chest pressed to the mattress and forearm settled under Grayson's thigh. He peered up Grayson's body and watched the smug look fall away, replaced with an eager expression tinged with nerves. "I'll take care of you."

Grayson swallowed heavily, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. "I know." The words were little more than a sigh but still Ethan could tell they represented the incredible trust Grayson had in him.

Feeling sentimental, Ethan pressed a tender kiss to the inside of Grayson's thigh before his hand ventured again between his legs. Using one thumb, Ethan parted Grayson's parts, for the first time seeing this new part of his twin close up. Breath shuddered from his lungs. Holy fuck, Grayson was beautiful.

Repositioning his arms, his left hand took over pulling Grayson apart. Ethan watched Grayson's face and then used his right thumb to rub over his clit. Grayson bit his lip, his head slamming into the pillow when Ethan started a quick circular motion over the highly sensitive area. "E!" Grayson growled in the still air of the room.

"Good?"

"Fuck E . More. Please Ethan, do something." It seemed Grayson wanted a little more than the slow build from earlier that morning. Ethan gladly gave it to him.

Dropping his thumb to rub over Grayson's opening, Ethan ducked his head down and flicked over his clit with his tongue. There was a sob over his head and Ethan did it again, this time plunging his finger back inside Gray. He loved hearing Grayson's pleasure and reveled in the moans he heard as his finger continued in a rhythm, quick slides in and out, his tongue swirling over and around Grayson's clit in practiced motions.

He pulled his finger free and trailed his tongue lower, dipping into Grayson's hole, tasting his sweet center for the first time. His flavor was addicting. Grayson's hand carded through Ethan's hair and held on. He couldn't contain a high-pitched moan. Ethan fought a smile at the sound and moved his tongue faster, darting inside Grayson's pussy and then swiping up and over his clit.

Grayson sobbed again, his hand tightening in Ethan's hair. For a little while, Ethan immersed himself, tucking his arms under Grayson's thighs and lifting his hips to meet his mouth. Grayson's thighs shook and little whimpers sounded in the room. Ethan surged inside Grayson with his tongue, his nose grazing Grayson's clit with every adjustment of his head.

"Ethan," Grayson groaned, giving a sharp tug on Ethan's hair. This was usually a signal that Grayson was close and that he should pull off if they wanted to continue, but Ethan had no such restrictions in this case. He ignored the tugs on his hair and set to work with more determination.

Grayson's moans were a constant in the background and Ethan listened to them grow louder as his tongue flicked and swirled faster and with more pressure over Grayson's center.

It didn't take much more for Grayson to cry out, his pussy pulsing under Ethan's tongue as orgasm took him. Ethan lapped at Grayson's hole, prolonging his pleasure and licking up his sweet juices. Grayson tasted incredible.

After another few licks, Grayson shuddered under him and rather than tugging on his hair, Grayson's hands started pushing him away. Reluctantly, Ethan pulled back and let Grayson's hips settle back into the mattress.

"Holy fuck," Grayson gasped, body still shaking every few seconds with aftershocks. Ethan preened a bit, proud of himself for how good he'd made it for his brother. Ethan kissed his thigh but stayed where he was. His cock was achingly hard pressed into the mattress.

Grayson noticed Ethan tip his hips down and he smiled knowingly. "You're so hard right now." And then reaching for Ethan, "let me."

"It won't take much," Ethan admitted. Grayson shrugged and pulled Ethan up, licking his lips at the sight of Ethan's cock dangling heavy between his thighs, tip smeared and dripping with pre-come.

As familiar as breathing, Grayson took Ethan into his hand, giving him the harsh pull and sharp twist he knew Ethan favored. Ethan groaned and leaned down to kiss his lips. It didn't take much, just like he'd predicted. With all the buildup, it took barely a few minutes of Grayson's hand on him to send him over the edge. Grayson milked him through it and then lifted his hand to his lips, sucking Ethan's come into his mouth as he had so many times before.

Ethan groaned. Grayson would be the death of him. He smirked with come-smeared lips. Unwilling to leave Grayson's lips unclaimed, Ethan leaned down and kissed him, tasting his own come on his tongue and pulling away only when Grayson went lax under him.

When he sat back on his heels, Ethan took in the breath-taking sight of Grayson's body and again was overcome with the need to touch. Ethan made a path of kisses from Grayson's mouth, down his torso, to the lips of his pussy. Just as he lapped at the outside of his folds, Grayson's eyes shot wide, hands going urgently to Ethan's shoulders.

"What are you doing? I can't go again this soon."

Ethan simply stared up at Grayson from between his legs. "Can't you?" He challenged, raising an eyebrow and quirking his lips in a smirk.

That seemed to remind Grayson that with a pussy, he didn't need a refractory time. "Oh god," he whispered, dropping his head back.

"Ready?"

Grayson's eyes were already glazed when he lifted his head to see Ethan. "Uh huh." Ethan grinned wickedly.

With no more reason to wait, Ethan got himself situated between Grayson's legs again, face once more even with his pussy. His mouth watered. Grayson tasted so sweet and he was deliciously responsive. Using his thumbs, Ethan pulled the pussy lips apart and then with his tongue flat, lapped from the base of Grayson's slit up and around his clit. So sensitive already, Grayson couldn't stop the whine that escaped his lips.

Ethan did it again and this time when he got to the top, he sucked Grayson's clit into his mouth. Grayson's hips jerked up to meet him and he continued until his twin's eyes were glazed with tears. One of Ethan's favorite things was to give Grayson pleasure and he was finding it extremely rewarding in their present circumstances.

Flicking over Grayson's clit, Ethan gently ventured with his fingers back to Grayson's slit. His opening was soaking wet and Ethan could tell that the muscles were already slightly relaxed from the orgasm only minutes ago. That in mind, Ethan used his index and middle finger to press inside.

Grayson's breath caught at the new intrusion, hitching again when Ethan pressed deeper. Keeping his tongue in play, Ethan angled his fingers in a way he knew from experience was effective and plunged in with rapid motions. Fingers spreading and thrusting inside, Grayson couldn't catch his breath. Ethan paused his mouth's ministrations to rewet his lips and tongue and then dipped to join forces with his fingers.

He licked around his fingers at Grayson's opening, lapping up his juices and darting inside with the tip of his tongue. Unable to handle what Ethan was doing, Grayson curled his legs up, closing them around Ethan's head as his back arched from the bed. He was trembling uncontrollably, sobbing Ethan's name repeatedly between wordless cries.

Ethan soothed a hand over the outside of Grayson's thigh and moved his tongue back over his clit. His fingers again tunneled inside Grayson's pussy, sending shockwaves through his body with the combined sensations.

Adjusting his position on the bed, Ethan found he had to change the position of his hand as well. Exchanging fingers, Ethan found better control with his middle and ring digits.

As Ethan continued sucking and lapping at Grayson's clit, his fingers plunged inside him over and over, the limited motion of his arm making him resort to curling his fingers in harsh shorter thrusts. Juices leaking and slicking Ethan's entire hand, Grayson's back arched and his legs trembled worse than before.

Without warning, Grayson's body locked up, a cry leaving his mouth as his pussy shot streams of liquid over Ethan's hand and chin, soaking Ethan where he lay below him and the sheets all around him. Ethan was so surprised he froze and then pulled his face away, blinking as his chin dripped.

Time seemed to stand still and then Ethan saw Grayson stare at him in horror before vaulting himself out of bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Ethan stared after him in concern and then looked at the bed, finding a dry end of the sheet to wipe his face. It really was soaked and so was Ethan. He didn't know what had happened, but he needed to wipe down and figure it out.

-

Knowing he couldn't say anything that would help Grayson right then, Ethan pulled out his laptop. What the hell was he supposed to search? It had kind of been like Grayson has peed on him, but that didn't seem right – he knew that wasn't what happened. Ethan rested his forehead in his hands.

Not knowing what else to do, he typed "my girlfriend sprayed me during sex?" The first result was a blog post and not really sure what he was looking for, Ethan clicked it. As he scrolled, Ethan felt his eyebrows lift. The girl who had written it explained that something like what Grayson experienced had happened to her. She wrote about her confusion the first time it happened and then provided an explanation of what it was and diagrams of how it happens. She even explained that there were scientific studies on the phenomena.

Squirting. At least now he had something to work with. Ethan darted a glance at the bathroom and knew he didn't have a lot of time. He could research extensively later. For now he would settle for one or two more brief queries before going after Grayson. Armed with a term and minimal understanding, Ethan searched "squirting orgasm."

The first couple links were porn sites and Ethan made the mental note to go back and watch this squirting thing in action, but a couple links down was a site with a definition. He clicked and took it in – read it again. So this thing that had made Grayson run off in embarrassment was actually just female ejaculation, possibly the most pleasurable orgasm it was possible for a woman to experience and Grayson had run away without even being able to enjoy it.

Time to get Grayson. Ethan sighed. He knew this was not going to be easy. Embarrassment clouded Grayson's judgment and ability to think objectively. Standing, Ethan approached the bathroom. He knocked lightly. "Gray." No answer. "Come out and talk to me, man." There was a long pause.

"Fuck off." Grayson's voice was a growl – his voice at its scariest. Dominating. He used it when he had a migraine or really just didn't want to be messed with. Sometimes. Ethan usually knew it was time to retreat when Grayson used that voice because it either meant a.) he was about to get shown how stronger Grayson was than he or b.) Grayson had decided he wanted to top. And although that was pleasurable, Gray was always rough. Just like Ethan liked it. Either one made him want to run for the hills, though.

"I found out what happened. Gray. Please, bro. Come out here."

Grayson yanked the door open, a fierce glare on his face. "Found out what happened?" he said caustically. "I fucking pissed on you Ethan." His glare was tempered only by the intense flush on his cheeks at admitting what he thought happened.

Shaking his head, Ethan put a hand on the bathroom door before Grayson could slam it shut. "You didn't." Grayson watched him doubtfully. "Come look at what I found. I promise you didn't pee on me. It's actually really interesting." Grayson outright scowled at that. "Please?" Ethan employed his signature puppy dog eyes. Pleading. Submissive.

Grayson gave in. "Fine," he grunted, stepping out of the bathroom. "Show me."

As Grayson went to the table, Ethan saw the tips of his ears turn bright red, a blush spreading down his neck as he avoided looking at the messed bed. It was already drying. Ethan followed and put a reassuring hand on Grayson's shoulder as he sat.

"So basically you just had an incredibly intense orgasm," Ethan said, sliding his hand over the laptops trackpad to bring the screen to life. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw the incredulous look Grayson gave him. "I'm serious. Here, look." He angled the screen for his brother to see.

It took Grayson a minute to read through the explanation and then, "What the fuck, bro! Seriously, what the fuck. How have neither of us ever seen it happen before. I mean we're basically sluts' man! Chances are with how many women we've been with at least one of us would have known about this."

Grayson was breathing heavily and running his hands through his hair. "And with how uncommon it's supposed to be, how did it happen to me? It says a lot of women practice to make this happen. How did this happen when I've only had a pussy for a freaking day?"

Ethan was a bit taken aback at the explosion of words, but he let Grayson talk himself out. "I don't know. But we have to consider the possibility that the curse is part of it. Haven't you noticed that you seem extra sensitive? Even things I did to you before today are affecting you more and it didn't take a lot to get you shaking apart for me."

Ethan relished the blush that flooded Grayson's cheeks and spread down his chest. He clasped Grayson's knee. "You're stunning," he told Grayson. "Today has been amazing and watching you come apart for me, seeing the pleasure on your face – " Ethan shook his head, unable to put his thoughts into words. "You're incredible."

"Shuddup." Grayson wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Listen," Ethan started hesitantly, "I think we should try and make it happen again." Grayson sputtered, attempting to protest, but before he could say anything, Ethan went on. "Hear me out. It sounds like squirting could be the best orgasm you could have right now. I want you to experience that. I want to give that to you."

"Dude – the mess – I hit you in the face!" Grayson turned red all over again.

Trying to downplay Grayson's concerns, because it really had been a mess, Ethan tried a different approach. "I think it could be really sexy."

The red hadn't even faded from Grayson's face before it was hit again with another blush. "I don't know Ethan." He trailed off, his foot bouncing anxiously under him.

"How about this. Let's watch some videos of it happening to see how you feel."

An eyebrow rose high on Grayson's forehead. "You wanna watch porn right now?"

"For investigative purposes, yeah. Aren't you the least bit curious? Don't you wanna know what it looks like, how intense it could actually be?"

Grayson scoffed. "All those actresses overact Ethan. None of what they're doing is actually that great...or real."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "So we find some amateur videos, get a more realistic look at what it could be like."

After a minute of thinking it over, Grayson finally agreed. At Ethan's suggestion they moved to the other still-made bed and Ethan pulled Grayson down between his legs, setting the laptop up at their side. With his twin in his arms, back to Ethan's chest, Ethan searched for amateur videos, hoping this would help his case. Though he'd been shocked when it first happened, after reading about it, Ethan really wanted the chance to make Grayson squirt again.

Checking Grayson's expression, Ethan noted the reluctant curiosity. His twin's arms were crossed over his stomach and Ethan could tell there was some nervousness there. He kissed Grayson's temple and typed "squirting orgasm" into the search bar for the second time that day, this time tacking amateur onto the end and selecting video.

There were endless options that appeared, and Ethan was a bit overwhelmed, unsure which selection would give a good representation. He didn't want to put Grayson off by choosing the wrong one. Scrolling for a minute, Ethan kept his eye out for something on the tamer side, feeling Grayson tense in his arms at the sight of some of the images and titles. Ethan had to bite back a smile. His brother, watcher of all types of porn, was uncomfortable with the porn Ethan was actually encouraging him to watch.

After a brief search, Ethan came across a video only a few minutes long that showed an image of hands framing an open pink pussy in the thumbnail. He clicked it. The brothers were met with a sight similar to their own positioning from earlier – a man using his tongue and then fingers inside the woman's lady bits.

They watched his fingers thrust in a steady rhythm, his tongue lapping and swirling over her clit, and where usually by the end they would expect to see the contractions of an orgasm, they were also presented with the close up of liquid shooting from her center and over the man's fingers. It jetted into the air once the man pulled out and continued pulsing out in short arcs as her orgasm continued. The video ended shortly after and Ethan and Grayson sat for a moment just taking it in.

Ethan clicked back, scrolled, and selected another without a word spoken between them. This time a wet pussy was spread open on screen and then soon speared by a thick cock. Grayson stifled a moan, Ethan guessed at the thought of Ethan being inside him like that. They hadn't gotten there yet and Ethan wanted it just as badly.

They watched as the scene played out like any other amateur video, moans and whispers between the couple heard in the background as the guy pounded inside the girl. Then the girl's hand dropped and rubbed in short quick motions over her clit as the cock kept slamming inside, her moans and exclamations growing louder.

The brothers watched this continue for a few long minutes and then the pitch of the girl's moans changed and they stared wide-eyed, jaws suddenly slack as she gushed over the cock inside her, juices spraying over his length and dripping onto the sheets. As the guy pulled back, another pulse sent a stream arching straight into the air and the girl swiped her hand across her splayed pussy, forcing the spray in every direction.

By the time the video ended, Ethan was uncomfortably hard and he squirmed against Grayson's back. If he wanted to get Grayson to do that, he'd need a little more guidance. It had been pure chance the last time. Clicking back to the search page one more time, Ethan scrolled until he found a video labeled "How To."

He clicked.

This video wasn't set up to be anything but instructional. A man stood clothed next to an elevated padded table, a woman lying naked on top. It was clearly only a piece of a larger video, because it started mid-explanation, but they watched raptly as the man explained the hand positioning and motion necessary to give a woman a squirting orgasm.

As per his own instructions, the man placed his left hand on her pelvis and inserted his right middle and ring finger, the outer fingers angled down against the backs of her legs, his thumb up. He began the motion he described, his two fingers moving only in an up and down motion. A wet sound echoed with each pass of his hand on the video and they watched enthralled as the woman gripped at the man's arm and convulsed, her whole body in motion as the orgasm took her, little spurts of liquid ejecting from her center.

The man went on to explain that holding rather than playing with the clit during orgasm would extend the duration of her pleasure, causing a cycle to start in her body. Ethan held his breath as he watched the woman's petite frame overcome with endless orgasms, fluid arcing from her pussy every few pulses.

There was the obligational spiel at the end about hoping viewers found success with the technique, but Ethan wasn't listening anymore. He wanted more than anything to see Grayson in the midst of an orgasm like that.

He was almost too nervous to ask Grayson what he was thinking and tightened his hand on Grayson's hip. "Gray?" He finally managed to whisper.

Rather than answer, the larger twin put his hand over Ethan's and dragged it away, directing it between his legs. Grayson parted his thighs a little in the space between Ethan's legs and whined, dropping his head on Ethan's shoulder as long fingers found his center.

Ethan swallowed thickly, pressing a wet kiss to his twin's cheek. Grayson was soaked, his pussy covered in a sheen of slick, leaking onto the bedcover. A groan left Ethan's mouth as the back of his hand encountered the slip-slide of Grayson's juices on his thighs.

Giving Grayson what he wanted, Ethan skimmed his fingers up and down the full length of Grayson's slit, a sticky string latching on and connecting them when Ethan pulled away. Sucking a kiss onto the edge of Grayson's jaw, Ethan delved in again, rubbing over his hole, thumb circling his clit. Grayson's hips rolled to meet him. "So fucking hot," Ethan whispered, "You want to try?"

Desperately, Grayson sought Ethan's mouth and sucked at his lips, tongues clashing. Gasping for breath, Grayson pulled away and made Ethan stop moving his hand. He turned over and knelt between Ethan's legs, just about climbing back into his lap, palming at his cock.

"Please," he murmured into Ethan's lips. "Please, oh fuck E. I want that so bad right now."

Ethan growled into Grayson's mouth. He'd give his twin exactly what he was asking for. Damn, he wanted it just as badly.

Kissing Grayson eagerly, Ethan tried to speak. "Maybe." Kiss. "We." Kiss. "Should move." Pant. "To." Kiss. "my bed."

Even with the suggestion, Ethan's arms encased Grayson and held him close, neither of them budging. Grayson was straddling his lap, fingers woven in Ethan's hair. Cheeks flushed and chest heaving for breath, it was more than evident how much Grayson wanted this. Making it even clearer, his brother's hips were abruptly fully aligned with his, Ethan's throbbing cock sliding between the lips of Grayson's wet vagina. A groan left Ethan's throat. The feeling was particularly spectacular.

Ethan swallowed Grayson's whine and gripped the round globe of his voluminous, firm ass, pulling him closer. It was the first time his cock had ventured anywhere near Grayson's new genitalia and it felt like pure, sultry bliss. He couldn't make himself pull away for a few long minutes, both their hips rolling in small movements, the head of his cock catching every so often on Grayson's clit, his length covered in Grayson's wetness. Grayson shook in Ethan's hold, his enjoyment and anticipation equally apparent.

Finally, Ethan slowed their kisses and dropped his hands to Grayson's hips, stilling their movement. "Let's get some towels and move to the other bed," Ethan suggested, lips never fully leaving Grayson's. Breath leaving him in shudders, Grayson's cheeks flamed, but he nodded.

In a moment as brief as they could make it they separated, Grayson going to collect a pile of towels and Ethan going to roll back the covers and prepare the other bed. The wetness from earlier had mostly dried and under the towels the slight dampness wouldn't be noticeable. Hopefully the towels wouldn't be totally dry for long anyway. Cheeks still tinged a slight crimson Grayson re-entered the room and handed over the pile to Ethan and they worked to spread them in layers over the bottom half of the mattress.

They both stared down at the bed. "Shit, bro. I'm kinda nervous. No cap," Grayson rasped, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Ethan stepped up to Grayson's back and tucked him into his arms. "It's okay, Gray. I'm kinda nervous too but I got you. I got you." Ethan heard Grayson swallow and then his brother turned in his arms and sealed their mouths together, kissing him with a hungry passion.

With Grayson distracted, Ethan guided them to the edge of the bed and slowly lowered them down, their hips settling on the top row of towels.

To keep Grayson comfortable, Ethan continued like he would any other day, licking into Grayson's mouth heatedly and running his hand over his bare skin. His hand curled around the base of Grayson's ribs, slid to cup his back, and pulled Grayson up against him. Grayson groaned and dropped his head back, lips swollen. And Ethan, not wanting to part from Grayson's skin, trailed kisses down Grayson's neck and over his wide chest, stopping to take a nipple between his lips.

Ethan knew his body well-better than anyone ever would-and laved around the nub with his tongue before sucking it and clipping it with his teeth. Grayson groaned, "E, fuck," and clutched Ethan's hair, pressing his head into his chest. Ethan grinned around the nipple and returned to suck it harder. Overwhelmed, Grayson squirmed.

Another few seconds of intense sucking and Ethan released the nub, sliding to the other side of Grayson's chest to start on the other one, raising his hand to roll the abandoned nipple between two fingers. Grayson sobbed softly in want, in pleasure, and lifted his hips and Ethan was only too happy to give Grayson what he wanted.

Not letting up with his mouth, Ethan pressed two fingers to Grayson's pussy, the lips parting with no resistance and accepting him inside. There was such heat radiating from the area, that some part of Ethan's curious brain wondered how it could simultaneously be so hot and so, so wonderfully wet.

Ethan dipped the two fingers inside, Grayson's slick walls sucking Ethan deep. In no more than a few seconds, the two fingers were into the webbing and Grayson's legs fell open in invitation. "So perfect for me," Ethan growled into Grayson's skin, "showing me your beauty, your power, letting me inside."

He slowly began pumping his fingers in and out, spreading them wide to add an extra stretch. "Fuck yeah," Grayson rasped. His hands were still curled into Ethan's hair and tightened every time Ethan thrust his fingers back inside. The bite against his scalp only drove Ethan on.

"Like that?"

Grayson moaned as Ethan twisted his fingers. "E!"

Ethan returned his mouth to Grayson's and gave him a sweet kiss. "You ready for more?" Grayson's throat bobbed and he nodded.

Another kiss and Ethan pulled back from Gray, settling between his legs very much like before. Peering up Grayson's body, Ethan saw Grayson looking down at him, a rosy cast to his cheeks, his eyes bright. Ethan pressed Grayson's thighs further apart and watched wet strings of Grayson's slick appear between the lips of his pussy as they were separated. Groaning, Ethan tucked his face into Grayson's thigh. The sight was completely enthralling, and Ethan was almost undone at the sight of Grayson so wet.

"What?" The question was anxious, and Grayson's thighs tensed as if to press back together and shut Ethan out.

"No...no," Ethan soothed, caressing Grayson's legs and keeping them where they were. "You're fucking stunning." The words were whispered, reverent. "I can't get enough of you."

In a small voice Ethan barely recognized as belonging to his twin, Grayson answered, "Oh," biting his bottom lip and not meeting Ethan's eyes.

Ethan resisted shaking his head. His brother was always far more insecure than he normally let on and it killed him. For now, though, Ethan's focus would be giving Grayson as much pleasure as he was capable of handling – fuck the insecurities.

Thumbs parting Grayson's outer folds, Ethan leaned in and lapped the entire length of Grayson's slit with the flat of his tongue. The sweet burst over his pallet had Ethan repeating the motion again and again. He lapped at Grayson's juices, more flowing out of him with every pass of Ethan's tongue. A groan erupted from Ethan and the rumble must have transferred to Grayson because his legs lifted from the bed, back arched, leaving his feet by Ethan's head and his hips rocking into Ethan's mouth.

Loving the effect he was having on him, Ethan lapped again to the top of Grayson's pussy and sucked his clit into his mouth, the swollen nub hard under his tongue. Ethan sucked and flicked his tongue in alternating motions over the nerves and little breathy ah's! filled the room. "E, E, E," Grayson chanted, an aroused rasp underlying the words.

Ethan continued his ministrations and brought a finger to Grayson's opening, plunging it inside. Drawing it out, Ethan surged forward again with the same two as directed in the video and thrust the digits slowly in and out again. "More," Grayson sighed, "please more."

Gladly giving in, Ethan thrust his fingers inside again, this time with more force, and he didn't stop. Over and over he plunged his fingers into Grayson's slick pussy, his tongue still at work on his clit. Grayson's hips rocked hard and Ethan moved his forearm to press over his brother's pelvis, holding him down.

Grayson whimpered and moaned, and Ethan, using what little technique he picked up from the videos, turned his palm to the ceiling. Keeping his fingers deep, Ethan curled and jerked them hard in an upward motion, repeating it when Grayson moaned louder. Flicking and lapping at Grayson's clit, Ethan kept his fingers going, Grayson's moans catching in his chest. Even as Ethan's fingers started to cramp, he continued, and before long a sloshing sound Ethan had never heard before was coming from Grayson's body. Ethan didn't let up or change pace. He kept going and finally he was rewarded.

With a deep, thundering wail Grayson came, pussy clamping down with unbelievable force on Ethan's fingers as he squirted and quivered so hard Grayson's hips lifted off the bed against Ethan's arm. The clear liquid soaked Ethan's hand and sprayed into the air, raining down on Grayson's stomach as Ethan pulled out and let the orgasm fully take Grayson. Ethan had pulled his face away to watch and was amazed to find another pulse of Grayson's pussy pushed out a second stream.

Just as the last video suggested, Ethan held his thumb over Grayson's clit without any additional movement, keeping his hand out of the way, and watched as the orgasm rolled through Grayson again, his hips rising and shifting on the bed, pussy still squirting in small jets, body shuddering and flexing on the bed.

Curious what would happen, Ethan decided to move his hand and rubbed the flat of his fingers in quick back and forth motions over Grayson's swollen clit. Grayson cried out again and rolled his hips, short little spurts spraying from his pussy in every direction as Ethan pulled yet another orgasm from him.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!" Grayson chanted as Ethan didn't let up. Grayson's hips rolled uncontrollably, and Ethan couldn't tell anymore if he was trying to get closer or move away from the source of his pleasure.

Apparently unable to take anymore, Grayson wrenched his hands from where they'd curled into the towels and shoved at Ethan's hand. With the move, Ethan was pushed back and then he was launching himself up the bed again and claiming Grayson's mouth, molding Grayson tight against his body. Their tongues curled together, Grayson's lips swollen where he'd bitten them, heart pounding in his chest, and in a passionate haze, Ethan pulled back a fraction.

He looked Grayson in the eye, making sure he was listening. "I fuckin' love you. That was hands down the hottest thing I've ever seen you do. And that you let me –" Ethan cut off and groaned, touching his forehead to Grayson's collarbone. He met Grayson's eyes again after a minute. "You're so fuckin' handsome, Gray."

Grayson flushed again. "Felt awesome," he admitted, voice slightly hoarse, body still shaking, hips lifting with small lingering orgasmic pulses.

Ethan laughed with joy and kissed Grayson again. "Just awesome?"

Grayson rolled his eyes, but hugged Ethan closer against himself. "Fine, it was – I don't even know how to explain it. It felt incredible. Might've been the best orgasm I've ever felt." He seemed reluctant to admit to the last part, hiding his eyes from Ethan. Ethan just kissed him, deciding he wouldn't mention that it had been many orgasms, and because he was just plain happy and he wanted to kiss Grayson again.

"What about you?" Grayson asked between kisses, gesturing down.

Shaking his head, Ethan told him, "Don't worry about it. I wanted to do this for you."

Grayson glowered and shoved at Ethan's chest. "And I want to do something for you."

"Okay," Ethan agreed quickly, knowing better than to argue.

Suddenly serious again rather than irritated, Grayson looked at Ethan. "I want you inside me."

Raising his eyebrows, Ethan protested. "Gray, you just – I don't need that right now."

"Ethan," Grayson growled commandingly, dominantly, "Get inside me."

Ethan didn't question his brother again. That tone meant Ethan would lose the argument anyway. His aching cock throbbed, and he was suddenly reminded of just how hard he was, how desperately he needed to get off. Trust Grayson to know his own needs better than he did.

Getting himself into a better position, Ethan pulled Grayson's legs around his hips and lined up his cock. Grayson's pussy was still so slick Ethan would have no problem sliding inside. "God, you're amazing," Ethan sighed, pressing inside. And remembering that Grayson still technically hadn't had something so big inside him, this being the first time, he went slow.

Grayson clutched at his sides, nails biting into the skin of Ethan's back, and he groaned at the pressure of being filled for the first time. "Alright?" Ethan panted, forcing his hips to move slowly.

"Mmhm." Grayson's eyes were closed, lashes fluttering as he accepted Ethan inside himself.

Once Ethan was fully seated, he held his breath, trying his best to keep his hips still. He watched Grayson's face closely, waiting for the pained tension in his features to bleed away. Propped up on his hands on either side of Grayson's head, Ethan could feel every clench of Grayson's muscles moving around the intrusion, could see the twitch in Grayson's toned abdominals, his chest sucking in air.

"Gray?"

His brother swallowed and squirmed. "I'm good, E. Just – give me another second." Ethan nodded and leaned in for a kiss, Grayson moaning into his mouth as the shift in motion changed Ethan's angle. Tongue prying at Ethan's lips, he shoved his hips up into Ethan's, ready and abruptly desperate for more.

Slowly, Ethan rocked his hips forward, grinding his cock deep inside Grayson's channel. Gaging Grayson's expression, he drew his hips back, only the tip left inside, and then without warning sank fluidly back in. Grayson's jaw dropped and a breathy moan punched out of his throat on Ethan's next quick slide inside.

Ethan relished the feeling of strong, thick fingers digging into his sides, nails raking down his back, and surged inside again and again. Every few thrusts Ethan would slow and give a firm grind against Grayson's pelvis, cock pressing deep and solid against slippery walls, Grayson clenching around him, heels digging into Ethan's lower back. A growling moan punctuated each twist of Ethan's hips and then Grayson gasped when Ethan pulled back and surged forward again.

Sweat beaded on Ethan's brow and on his back and he loved the similar feel of Grayson's sweat-sticky skin gliding against his. "Touch yourself," Ethan directed, wanting Grayson to get something out of this too, wanting to see the rapture on his face when he came again.

Grayson gave an exhausted groan and removed a hand from Ethan's back to wiggle it between their bodies pressed so gloriously close. Ethan knew the moment Grayson's fingers slid over his clit. His brother's forehead crinkled, a grimace of combined pleasure and pained overstimulation gracing his face.

Ethan could feel the soft rub and flick of Grayson's hand between them and kissed his lips again, his hips increasing their speed and driving him inside. Grayson's pussy clenched around him and clung to his cock each time it retreated, like it didn't want to let go, like it was sucking him inside, consuming him. Pulling too far, Ethan slipped free and as he reached down to guide himself back in, he took a moment to rub the head up and down the length of Grayson's slit, the flood of slick Grayson kept producing easing the way.

"E," Grayson whimpered, head thrashing, his entire body flushed.

"I gotcha, Gray." Ethan dragged his cock along the soaked lips and the opening of Grayson's center and then finally pushed in again.

Grayson gave a grateful moan and Ethan felt his fingers flick faster before Grayson slid the base of his palm to grind over his clit and let his fingers form a 'v' around Ethan's place inside him, pulling against his own skin, making more room for Ethan there.

Grayson's body had begun trembling again and Ethan knew he was getting close. Thankfully Ethan could sense himself nearing climax as well. Sealing his lips over Grayson's, they found themselves panting into each other's mouths more than kissing and Ethan's hips started moving erratically.

The little lifts of Grayson's hips as he thrust against Ethan started to change as well, shifting in a more circular motion as his heels drove into Ethan's ass in an attempt to make them inseparable. Ethan groaned into Grayson's mouth and then pushed up to the full length of his arms so he could drive inside with the full force of his hips.

He wasn't quite there yet, but he could tell Grayson was. "Ah! Ethan. E, oh fuck." Grayson's head dropped back and his pussy clenched down in rhythmic pulses. What Ethan hadn't expected, not again, was the streams of fluid that gushed over his cock and into the air with every pulse of Grayson's orgasm as he convulsed.

"Fuck!" Ethan rasped, the pressure from inside Grayson pushing him out, pussy squirting in short streams. His cock was dripping with Grayson's release, his thighs and abs specked with it, and Ethan knew with a little more stimulation, he would plummet over the edge.

Grayson whimpered as the squirts became less, soft spurts that soaked Ethan's hips and cock where they were held just outside Grayson's center. As his orgasm clearly ended, Grayson's body sagged into the mattress, exhausted, overworked, sensitive.

Ethan lifted a hand to jerk himself 'til he came, so close already, but Grayson hooked his heels around the backs of Ethan's legs and dragged him closer, his own body still trembling and twitching with aftershocks.

"Wanna feel you." It was a whispered confession between them.

"Okay," Ethan reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere." He wasn't entirely sure what Grayson was asking, thought maybe he was feeling vulnerable after everything and wanted Ethan close.

When Ethan didn't do anything but move his body closer to Grayson's, he clarified. "Wanna feel you come inside me."

This was whispered softer than before. Ethan swallowed heavily and watched Grayson's face, finding only sincerity there.

Letting his head drop between his shoulders, Ethan slid inside him, staring into his glazed, pleasured eyes. With Grayson's go ahead, he picked up speed and soon was pounding into him unrelentingly. Grayson's hands pressed with bruising force into his skin and one trailed up over his back and down his arm to curl around Ethan's wrist, wrapped tight. Grayson held on, entire body rocking with the force of Ethan's thrusts. Another few deep plunges and Ethan's body tensed, frozen as his hips jerked and he emptied himself into Grayson.

Finally drained of both come and energy, Ethan collapsed onto Grayson, arms curling to cradle his twin against him. Grayson wriggled closer with a sigh and nuzzled under Ethan's chin. They lay together for a few minutes catching their breath, sweat cooling against their skin, but eventually Ethan's cock slipped free, his come sliding out in a slow trickle, and Grayson grew restless.

"We gotta get up," Grayson graveled voice interrupted the silence.

"Why?" Traces of a whine were heard in Ethan's complaint, but he couldn't be bothered to fix it. He was comfortable.

Grayson chuckled breathlessly. "Cause the bed's drenched and I'm a fucking mess."

Ethan lifted his head and leered at Grayson. "So worth it." He raised a hand and thumbed over Grayson's bottom lip before cupping his face and stroking over his cheek.

"Definitely worth it," Grayson agreed, eyes sparkling. "Can't feel my legs." Ethan chuckled and gave him another kiss. Reluctantly pulling away, Grayson said, "Let's go get cleaned up."

"Fine," Ethan pouted and ducked down to kiss Grayson one last time. After that final tender kiss, Ethan rolled away and helped Grayson get up, his legs still shaky.

He helped his brother into the bathroom and under the hot spray of the shower. Holding Grayson to his chest, his brother's arms wrapped around his waist, he whispered, "We gotta figure out what the witch did to you." He was hesitant to even bring it up right now, but they couldn't pretend nothing was wrong. They had to figure this out.

"I know," Grayson agreed, sucking a kiss into Ethan's neck, leaving his mark. "Can we think about it later though? Right now I just wanna get clean and lay down with you."

Ethan smiled at the uncharacteristic show of Grayson's soft feelings.

They could absolutely focus on the whats and hows and fix its later. For now he would hold Grayson and enjoy the time they had with his body the way it was and when Grayson had his fill of experiencing "the other side" they would figure out how to turn him back.


	8. Spank Me (If You Fancy It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan has an insatiable desire to be spanked. Grayson is perfectly okay with that.

8.

Ethan & Grayson, 19-20

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson & Top Grayson, Bottom Ethan

-

It started off as just any other ordinary shower brush.

Ethan had the thing for years; he couldn't even remember where he'd gotten it.

It was a good brush, so he just kept it because, you know, even after they became YouTube famous and really started making money, that didn't mean Ethan didn't care about the little sentimental things in life and this, although he was embarrassed to admit it, had some sort of value to it.

The shower brush was made of smooth blond wood with a long handle, making it easy for Ethan to reach every part of his back, and a large, round head full of boar hair bristles that weren't too soft or too coarse. It was one of his few prized personal possessions, even if Grayson did occasionally make fun of him for it with a playful grin.

He was seventeen when he ended up in the shower with some girl one night after he took a fan up to their hotel room when they were on their tour. She had been so cute, Stacy or something like that, and Ethan might've done it to spite Gray, maybe just a little. The expression on Grayson's face when he snuck her into the bathroom had been priceless, even more so when she was naked. He made sure Grayson could hear exactly what was going on.

Anyway, she decided to use the flat back of the brush head to slap his ass a few times and... well, he couldn't look at the thing the same way again.

When they got back after the tour, having moved to California, Ethan didn't stop there. It was like something had awakened inside him. For a year or so he might've gone a little bit crazy. Of course, no one knew about it-except Grayson-because it wouldn't look good for him to be caught with the types of people he purposefully went after.

It eventually turned into something he regularly included in his bedroom activities - there were nights at the clubs when he'd specifically pick up the kinkier looking chicks just so he wouldn't get funny looks when he practically begged them to spank him. Sometimes he even forewent the brush for just their hand. Sometimes there was the occasional guy with large, calloused hands (those were the best, in Ethan's opinion) and well-muscled arms. But no matter who he picked up, it never seemed like enough.

There was something...missing. He couldn't understand. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

From the lightest of taps that left him wanting more to the hardest smacks that he didn't ever want to end; he'd get off, sure, but he still felt unfulfilled when his toy of the night redressed and left the room, like somehow they'd missed the one spot that would unhinge him completely.

And yeah, he was young when he discovered this kink, but he probably should have seen it coming. From the few times kids at school had smacked him around and he'd been left feeling more confused than remorseful. Or when he was older and he and Grayson got into wrestling matches (Grayson would affectionally call them 'tiger matches') and he'd hit him a certain way. Then there he was, yanking away as Grayson tried to tackle him again, having to tame a hard-on before he embarrassed himself in front of his twin who had no idea what was happening, only that Ethan was suddenly acting all stiff and passive.

If anything, he should've realized he liked it sooner.

Anyway, maybe Ethan was kind of fucked in the head, just a little bit, because somewhere between eighteen and nineteen all those men and women that he got to spank him-he found there was even more in L.A. that were down for it than he'd ever expect-all started looking like Grayson. Or, at least, he pictured them as Grayson. Grayson with that curl of a smile, those large hands with those thick fingers, that laugh, those heavy, powerful biceps. It didn't happen all at once, but it started, certainly. Suddenly, it wasn't Mark or Karen or Darren that he was with, spanking him, it was Grayson. He could just close his eyes and picture him.

He never found more pleasure than when he did that, although it kind of freaked out the people he was with, sometimes offended them, too, because here he was orgasming on their lap, bawling his twin brother's name.

One time, after one of their videos in which Ethan accidently hit Gray with a frying pan, he desperately wanted Grayson to hit him back. After the cameras were off, the supplies put away, the card in the computer ready to edit the shit out of the video, Ethan stood in the middle of the living room, quite serious, as Grayson nursed an icepack against his temple.

"Gray?"

"Yeah?"

Ethan planted his feet firmly on the off-white carpet. Grayson stood there, looking particularly tired and blinked, confused.

"Clock me one." Ethan exasperated, motioning towards his face.

Grayson stared at him. "What?"

"Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go."

Grayson looked at him like he was insane. He probably was. "No."

"Let's go, you get a freebie. Hit me, come on."

Grayson waved him off, turning to walk back to the kitchen. "E, come on, bro. You're unstable."

Ethan just stood there and crossed his arms: "Come on. I promise, I won't hit you back!"

"I'll take a rain check." Grayson said over his shoulder.

Ethan knew his brother well enough to hear the grin in his voice. The little shit was teasing him.

Ethan blinked, surprised.

This whole time Ethan thought Grayson didn't know, didn't know that he liked hands on him, but this was proof positive that he definitely did, and here he was denying Ethan the instant gratification, but practically promising it in the same breath.

Well. Shit.

Ethan frowned in disappointment, trying to push the thought of Grayson hitting him later from his mind, shivering at the thought of Grayson throwing him over his lap and spanking him real good. He licked his lips and made his way over to the computer.

-

It wasn't one of Ethan's prouder moments, but a week after he asked Grayson to hit him, he was rather bored one Friday evening, the ache in his groin almost painful. He licked his lips and glanced at Gray relaxing on the couch.

"Gray, time to cash in on your rain check, bro. Get over here and hit me."

Grayson looked up from the TV and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Quit screwing around with me, come on."

"Are you having that hard of a time getting laid?"

Ethan wasn't expecting that comeback and fumbled, unsure how to respond. "...N-no. What? What's that got to do with this?"

He knew Grayson knew, but he still wanted to deny it on principle. Of course, Grayson knew about the people...put did he know about the spanking...? He must've.

"You think I haven't noticed? Bro, I know you get off on pain. You can't hide something like that from me, E."

"...You never said anything."

Grayson huffed, looking back at the TV. "Was I supposed to? I didn't think it was a big deal, so I let it go."

Ethan could only stare at Grayson in disbelief with a hint of desperation. He was honestly going to start begging if Grayson didn't get up and do something in the next ten seconds.

Grayson must have felt Ethan's eyes on him, as he looked back up at him. Sighing, he stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of Ethan. Ethan rolled his shoulders back and set his jaw, more than ready.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"You know what I'm talking about, E. Where is it?"

Ethan almost didn't want to believe it. Grayson wanted to... use the brush on him? Ethan was getting hard just imagining it. "You- you mean-"

"The brush, E. Where. Is. It?"

"At the back of the bathroom closet. Behind the towels."

Ethan felt Grayson's hand on his belt buckle and glanced down just as Grayson unfastened it with one hand. Grayson pulled open the button on Ethan's jeans and made Ethan look back up at him with his free hand, thumb rubbing against his strong jaw gently.

"Take these off," Grayson ordered in a gruff voice, not exactly meeting Ethan's eyes, tugging at a belt loop. He turned then and went to the bathroom, searching through the closet for the shower brush.

Holy. Shit.

Ethan could hardly breathe.

Ethan unzipped his jeans and let them drop without question. It was only after he'd tugged off his shirt and was standing in the middle of the living room in only his boxer-briefs that he realized he was about to let his twin spank him and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Welp. He was seriously messed up in the head.

Although, when Grayson came back into the room a few minutes later, shower brush in hand and a look in his eyes that meant serious business, Ethan couldn't care less about the consequences. He needed this, and if Grayson wanted to give it to him- well, he'd been in more compromising situations.

"Bedroom," Grayson said, casually swirling the brush in his hands.

"Yours or mine?" Ethan said, licking his lips, practically shaking in anticipation.

"Mine." Grayson rumbled, tongue licking on his bottom lip as he slowly eyed Ethan. Ethan slipped past him, making his way down the hallway and when they were both in the bedroom, Grayson shut the door behind him. Ethan turned around, running a hand through his hair, his heart racing, his palms sweaty.

Grayson eyed Ethan up and down before looking pointedly at Ethan's underwear. Ethan could feel his pulse in his ears as he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pushed them down as well. Slowly, Grayson approached Ethan and grabbed his bicep, spinning him around until he faced the bed and bending him over it. Ethan braced his hands on Grayson's soft white bedsheets and swallowed thickly as Grayson nudged his feet apart.

For a moment, Ethan didn't know what was going to happen. Grayson wasn't touching him, and he wasn't making a sound. This was probably the most vulnerable he'd ever been in his life. Suddenly, Grayson's hand landed on Ethan's lower back, making him shiver even though Grayson's hand was warm.

"Ethan, relax. It's just me."

Ethan looked over his shoulder at Gray; he gave him a soft smile, spreading his fingers a little over Ethan's skin. Ethan let out a breath and nodded once before dropping his head.

Grayson pressed the cold wood of the shower brush against Ethan's left ass cheek momentarily, just letting it rest there. In the next instant Ethan felt more than heard the pop of it against his skin, sharp and stinging. It took him by surprise, but he didn't flinch, just took it stoically. He knew Grayson could hit harder, but he almost didn't want him to- didn't need him to.

As Grayson fell into a pattern, Ethan was able to anticipate the next hit, but each one still sent shocks of pleasurable pain up his spine and back down to his dick. Ethan started off counting each one in his head, but he lost count the moment Grayson migrated lower, hitting the spot where ass turned into thigh.

Grayson paused, and Ethan realized he'd cried out.

"Keep going, Gray."

Grayson didn't hesitate, aiming for the same exact spot, only on the opposite side. Ethan choked off another cry, pressing his face into his shoulder and biting his bottom lip. Grayson didn't stop again, continuing lower to turn Ethan's thighs pink before moving back up to his ass, already raw and sore.

Ethan had lost track of time by then, lost track of everything really, except for Grayson's steady rhythm, the snap of wood against skin, and the slowly intensifying pain and pleasure. Without thinking, he lifted a hand to touch himself, to relieve just some of the pressure.

"No."

Ethan hadn't even gotten his fingers around himself before Grayson was pulling his arm behind his back and pinning it there. Ethan wasn't sure if the sound he made was a sob of frustration or a moan.

"Grayson, Gray, please. You're killing me here."

"You can take a few more."

Ethan chanced a look at Grayson over his shoulder; his eyes were dark, cheeks flushed slightly from exertion and, from the very obvious bulge in his jeans, arousal. Ethan swallowed thickly; he'd fucked guys before, and he could honestly say that it wasn't half bad, but he'd never had anyone fuck him, and he wasn't sure if today was the day he wanted to start. However, if it was Grayson who asked, and in his present condition...

"If you can be good for ten more, you can fuck me."

And, well, Ethan wasn't expecting that one. His cock twitched at the thought, and he nodded quickly. He'd go to a special place in hell for doing this, but if Grayson wanted it, well, he was an adult who could make his own damn decisions and Ethan was not going to turn him down now. Grayson let go of his arm, and Ethan placed it back on the bed, dropping his head once more.

The first one was much harder than all of the previous ones, and Ethan actually flinched, hissing even as he dug his fingers into the sheets in pleasure. He should have known Grayson would be merciless, with a deal like this. He braced himself for the next nine, and each one was just as hard as the last. His ass was going to be bruised for a week, and he was going to fuck Grayson into next year.

When Grayson was done, Ethan let his arms give out, and he collapsed face first onto the bed, shaking and so wound up he didn't think he was going to last very long once he was inside Grayson. After a moment, he was able to move again and he stood carefully, turning to find Grayson rummaging through his own drawers.

Grayson threw a tube of lube onto the bed when he returned and pressed a square of foil against Ethan's chest, and Ethan grabbed it before it fell to the floor. "I know you don't like using them, but better safe than sorry."

Ethan stared at the condom. "What, afraid I'll get you pregnant?" His voice was rough and shaky with the adrenaline running through him. He felt like a live wire.

Grayson glared at him as he quickly undressed but didn't respond.

"Really? Dude, come on, I'm clean."

Grayson straightened up after taking off his underwear and raised his eyebrows at Ethan. "You had sex with a complete stranger less than a three months ago, E. I know. I'm not taking my chances."

Ethan thought about it; okay, so Grayson had a point. "Fine, whatever."

Grayson crawled onto the bed and spread himself out in the middle of it, and if that wasn't an invitation, Ethan didn't know what was. He was all hard muscle, and even though Ethan was straight - okay, mostly straight...no he was definitely Grayson-sexual- he could still appreciate Grayson's masculine beauty. Ethan followed him and settled between his spread legs, grabbing the lube to quickly coat his fingers.

"You can start with two," Grayson muttered when Ethan pressed one finger against his hole, rubbing around it in slow circles.

Ethan paused, looking up at Grayson's face. "You've done this before?"

"A few times, yeah."

Ethan felt a sudden jab of unexplained jealousy and pressed two fingers into Grayson just to see him squirm; only, he didn't, just spread his legs a little further and pushed back against Ethan's fingers, letting out a soft breath. Determined to work Grayson up the way he did Ethan, he twisted his fingers ruthlessly and curled them up, aiming for Grayson's prostate.

Grayson let out a surprised groan, grabbing at the sheets and bucking against Ethan's hand, searching for more. Ethan easily worked in a third finger, spreading them inside Grayson and smirking as he watched him slowly fall apart.

"Come on, E."

"You gonna beg for me, yeah?"

Grayson raised his eyebrows. "Do you want me to?"

Ethan shrugged, pulling his fingers out and getting the condom on. "Not really, I just wanted to see if you would."

Grayson watched Ethan with an affronted expression as he spread lube on his cock. "Ass."

Ethan grabbed the pillow beside Grayson's head and stuffed it under Grayson's hips before grabbing his right leg and hooking it over his shoulder. He looked Grayson in the eye as he lined up and pushed into him, watching him throw his head back on a moan, exposing his neck. Ethan leaned in and latched on just under Grayson's ear, sucking a mark into his skin.

"Oh, fuck." Grayson's hands moved to grip Ethan's biceps, fingers digging into his flesh.

Ethan chuckled softly against Grayson's neck. "That good, huh? I haven't even started yet."

Grayson turned his head to nip at Ethan's jaw, rolling his hips. "Just move already, asshat."

"If you insist." Ethan pulled out a little before thrusting in all the way, mouthing at Grayson's neck.

Grayson gasped softly and dug his heel into Ethan's back, his hips moving in time with Ethan's as they fell into a rhythm. One of Grayson's hands had migrated to grip Ethan's shoulder blade, his short nails marking the skin. Ethan shifted the angle after a moment, and Grayson arched up when he hit his prostate dead on.

"Man, that must be a new record."

"Oh my god, Ethan, shut up," Grayson moaned, pressing his forehead into Ethan's shoulder and clawing at his skin.

Ethan shivered as Grayson's nails raked down his back. "Bite me."

Grayson did just that, sinking his teeth into the taut muscle of Ethan's shoulder and clamping down. Ethan groaned, his rhythm faltering for a second before he gripped Grayson's left thigh and thrusted harder, coaxing a muffled noise from Grayson. One hand still digging into Ethan's back, Grayson snaked the other down to his ass, slapping the bruised skin with his open palm.

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Oh. Oh, Gray. Ah."

Ethan could feel Grayson grinning, his teeth still embedded in Ethan's shoulder. Reaching between them, Ethan wrapped his free hand around Grayson's cock, stroking in counterpoint to his brutal thrusts. Grayson released Ethan's shoulder on a gasp, arching up into Ethan's hand. Ethan went back to sucking on Grayson's neck, putting all of his game on at once.

"Ethan, Ethan," Grayson chanted, scratching across Ethan's back and digging his nails into Ethan's ass, making him hiss.

Ethan was gonna lose it if Grayson kept doing that. He pounded right into Grayson's prostate, intent on making him come first if it was the last thing he did. "Come on, Gray. Come for me."

A few more thrusts and Grayson's muscles contracted all at once, his teeth clamping down on the junction between Ethan's neck and shoulder and his nails surely drawing blood from Ethan's back. The groan he let out as he came was probably loud enough to be heard throughout the entire neighborhood.

Ethan couldn't hold out any longer with all the sensations, slamming his hips against the back of Grayson's thighs and coming with a growl. Ethan collapsed on top of Grayson after a moment, breathing heavily.

"Are you that rough with everyone?" Grayson panted, going limp with exhaustion.

Ethan knew he should move but didn't really want to. "No, I just knew that I couldn't break you as easily."

Taking what looked like a heroic effort, Ethan pushed himself up and pulled out of Grayson, watching him wince. "Are you this tough with everybody?"

Grayson scrunched up his face in confusion. "What? You're the only guy I've ever had sex with, E."

"You said you'd done this before."

Grayson studied Ethan's face. "I meant I'd fingered myself before." He huffed, amused. "You were jealous."

Ethan got up to go clean himself off. "Why should I be jealous? I'm not jealous."

Grayson laughed, rolling off the bed to follow Ethan to the bathroom and slapping his bruised ass.

Ethan hissed, backhanding Grayson in the chest. "Ouch."

"You know you liked it."

Ethan blushed and couldn't deny it as he let Grayson lean over and kiss him passionately on his cheek, rubbing his hips softly with his large, calloused hands.

-

So, here they were at twenty, six months later.

The voice was smooth and gruff all at once, melted butter on a piece of toast. Crispy. Warm. Alluring. A rumble from a deep, distant shore. Warm hands on smooth, silky soft skin.

"Bad E."

Smack.

"Ah."

"You're so naughty." A growl, effortless. Bottomless.

Smack.

"You are naughty, aren't you?"

Smack.

"Ah. Mmmm."

"Say it."

"I-"

Smack.

"I-m so naughty."

A deep laugh, vibration, a raised hand.

Smack.

"Yeah you are. And you know what happens to somebody being naughty?"

Smack.

"Mmmm. Ah. W-what?"

Smack.

"They get spanked."

Smack.

Grayson's hand was the size of a shovel. At least, it felt that way.

Ethan arched back when it cracked down on his ass, palm cupping enough air to make a whipcrack sound, hot slap against his skin and Grayson's fingers curving to his hip, pressing down a little to keep the heat in. Ethan panted crazily, his hands getting slippery with sweat on the headboard slats. His knees and elbows ached where they dug into the mattress; he was lying over Grayson's lap.

Grayson rubbed his thumb hard over the edge of the smack, scraping a little with his nail, bright and sharp. "Good?"

"Yeah," Ethan said, on a hoarse breath. "Yeah." And it was, man, so fucking good, like everything; like everything else he'd asked for. Grayson smacked him again, across both cheeks this time, long fingers leaving stripes of heat. Ethan rounded his mouth and huffed desperately, shoved his forehead down against the pillow. His dick was hard and jerking against Grayson's, between his thighs; he needed more.

Fuck.

Grayson gripped his hips and slid them a little further down the bed, so Ethan had to stretch to keep hold of the headboard, arms straining. "Shh," Grayson said, though Ethan hadn't said anything, and then he rubbed his thumb down the crack of Ethan's ass, pressed against his hole.

Ethan felt hot all over, across his shoulder blades, his thighs sweating and heavy, all his weight across Grayson's legs now. His ass was throbbing, and Grayson was rubbing slick over his hole with the pad of his thumb. "Come on, again," Ethan said, Grayson gave him another, low on his ass, and squeezed him after, kneaded it hot into the muscle until Ethan was shaking, his face was burning. Here he was. Being spread open and taken deep, Grayson finding his way further inside once again.

"E," Grayson said, rubbing up and down his thigh, gently.

"Yeah," Ethan said, and jerked under the next one, almost losing his grip. The one after that slid him loose, and he buried his head in his arms, shivering, until Grayson moved out from under him. Ethan ducked his head away, trying to keep Grayson from seeing his face, but Grayson was kissing the back of his neck, down his spine, rubbing his big warm hand over Ethan's ass in circles.

"Let me, let me see your face, babe," Grayson was murmuring, until Ethan gave in and turned, both of them sliding messy and tangled over the bed. His ass was rubbing against the sheets while Grayson kissed him, all along his jaw, bit his ear, sucked on his lip. Grayson kept stopping every little while just to pull back and look at him, heavy-lidded and smiling, flush all along his cheeks, his hair messed every which way. Ethan didn't know how to handle it when Grayson looked at him like that; he shut his eyes and shivered under it, feeling hot all the way up his neck, until Grayson finally let him breathe again, nudged him over and pulled him up to hands and knees.

He locked his arms and put his head down, waiting for it, sore and trembling and so full of want he didn't know how to keep it together. "Hold on," Grayson said, and spanked him hard and fast, six quick slaps blurring together. Ethan's cock was jerking and dripping into the air with every one, his hips trying to dance away, and then Grayson was up behind him, settling between Ethan's legs and forcing his knees wide. Ethan shut his eyes and held himself up while Grayson put it into him. Grayson's hand was gripping his hip, fingers sticky and tight, and his cock was pressing in and opening him up.

"Like this," Grayson said, low and happy, not really asking anymore because he knew, he had it now. His hips were up against the hot sore red of Ethan's ass, and Grayson was fucking him steadily, each thrust like another slap, thumbs pressing into the tender spots, even while Ethan's arms gave out and left him sprawled out messily on the crumpled sheets; Grayson was still holding up his hips, still fucking him, all the way down into the bed.

Grayson stopped before he got off. He eased his cock back out again still hard, keeping Ethan down with a hand in the small of his back. Ethan could feel his pulse beating in his ass. His cock was pinned between his belly and the sheets. He reached out shaky for a pillow and wrapped his arms around it, mostly because he wanted something to hide his face in.

"I just, come on, something," Grayson said, mumbling against his neck, teasing Ethan's cock with his fingers.

Ethan rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, all right, I want to come on you," and Grayson whimpered and said, "Oh, God," and rolled them over so Ethan was straddling his hips and jerked him off hard and fast. Ethan had to brace himself against the wall at the top of the bed with both hands to keep himself up. He'd thought he'd yanked it out of thin air, but man holy fuck, he did want to, he wanted to more than anything. He started spurting through Grayson's fingers, and watching it stripe Grayson's belly was, oh, fuck, and then Grayson stared up at him wild-eyed and said, "E," and came too inside his condom, just like that.

Okay, so Grayson was kinky, and Ethan was too; maybe that was a given seeing that they were in love. Secretly, of course. Six months strong.

Once Ethan had started asking to be spanked, he couldn't stop. Every time he asked for something, Grayson made it happen, no matter how fucking crazy it was, and Ethan got more and more off on it, and it was starting to freak him out a little, because he didn't want it to ever stop. He just wanted Grayson. He and Grayson, that's it.

They had done almost everything in the last six months.

But whenever Ethan got a little squirrelly (please, Gray, throw me over your shoulder, push my face in the bed, spank me, spank me hard, dominate me) about it, Grayson kept saying, "I want to," almost pleading, like Ethan was doing him a favor.

Grayson had asked for the spanking thing again, a couple weeks ago. Usually it was Ethan who would ask, but it was Grayson this time. Ethan had been game, he'd lain down, Grayson had smacked him a couple of times, fucked him. In truth, Ethan was kind of tired. It wasn't as fun as the first time, the time with the brush.

It was twenty minutes in the middle of a rerun of some show today, Ethan had opened his mouth and out came, "Hey, listen, you think," and Grayson was gone, glassy-eyed staring at him before they even got on the bed.

So, Ethan didn't even know, except mostly he figured he shouldn't mess with something that worked, and this, oh—"Oh, fuck," he said; Grayson was smacking him again, big open-handed slaps, working up and down his thighs too.

"Bad E."

Smack.

"Ah."

"Your ass is so plump I could just eat it."

Smack.

"Mmm, look how juicy it is?"

Smack.

"Use your teeth," Ethan said, and Grayson moaned and put his face against Ethan's ass and bit him: not hard, just taking a hold, cool against the skin, and then he let go and licked over the soft little dents he'd left.

"Yeah," Ethan said, shuddering. Grayson rubbed his face against Ethan's ass, sandpapery scrape of his five-o'clock shadow setting everything on edge.

"Please," Grayson said, like Ethan was holding out on him or something, "Please." Ethan groaned, and Grayson turned him over and pushed his legs back and sank into him.

"Aw, fuck," Ethan said thickly to the ceiling. Grayson had his arms hooked under Ethan's knees, and he was bending them all the way to Ethan's chest, leaning against the hot red backs of Ethan's thighs. His hips were snug up to Ethan's ass, and he was mostly rocking them together, making Ethan flex with him, feel all that tender soreness running from his ass down his thighs, just what he wanted.

"Want to make you, Ethan, want you to, want you," Grayson said, soft and urgent, bending low over him, more than Ethan knew what to do with in his eyes, his hands, the way Grayson's fingers were curled tight around his thighs, and Ethan said hoarsely, desperate, "I know, I know you do," and let himself fall, because he was starting to believe it.


	9. Tainted Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Grayson is a demon and Ethan is an angel and they are secretly deeply in love with each other.

9.

Ethan & Grayson, ageless

Top Ethan, Bottom Grayson

-

The screams have died down.

The shrill sounds that hurt his ears were finally gone, but now he was kind of missing them. Listening to those hopeless, wretched sounds always filled him with a twisted sort of glee, the kind others would find appalling and downright sick, but it wasn't his fault he enjoyed pain and suffering.

He was a demon, after all.

That was his nature.

Grayson raised his arms over his head, stretching like a big cat, a pleased shiver running down his spine as his joints popped from the delicious pull. He did quite a workout, and a satisfied smirk crossed his face as he looked over the carnage, the graveyard he had turned this previously peaceful church into.

Bodies lay sprawled everywhere, many missing some of their limbs. Blood was covering the black and white marble flooring, the tiles now painted a pretty red, and had left sprays of crimson along the walls, little droplets sticking to the surface stubbornly while thicker ones have made their way down, trickling down the wall as if in a desperate search of an escape. The floor and the pews were littered with corpses—that of nuns, of priests, of blind believers, young and old.

Grayson wasn't picky, he gave an equally awful and cruel death to all of his victims. He had showed up out of nowhere, in the middle of one of those ridiculous religious sermons, and scared the crap out of everyone by turning his eyes to a pitch black color and telling them this was the end, that today would be the day they all died. Their reaction was honestly priceless. Watching the look of horrified shock, stupefaction, and finally realization on their faces when Grayson killed the first of them never got old, was always so much fun, just like gazing into his victims' eyes before ripping their throats out. He tore hearts out, dismembered those that tried to run or hide. He showed no mercy, but why would he? Why should he? Only scaring the humans and then letting them go wasn't why he was here, though it's not like he had an actual, important reason for doing this, either.

Well, no, he did have a reason.

It was fun.

Grayson let out a pleased sigh as he took in the sight of all those cooling corpses, then looked down at his black suit and frowned. He got blood on his clothes, again. He really needed to stop doing that. Even if he had an infinite stack of the same pants and suit jackets, he still hated to burn the dirty ones. Ah well, no matter.

His clothes already ruined, Grayson didn't mind wiping his bloody hands on his pants, but that only got some of it off. Some blood remained, dried on his hands and clung to his fingers stickily, and he couldn't stop the twisted grin that stretched his lips as he raised a hand to his mouth and flicked his tongue out, slowly running it up a digit. He liked the taste. He always had, ever since he first tasted the metallic wine, felt it spread across his tongue and bombard it with a sea of flavors. It was strong and made his mouth water for more, was like what he imagined curling up by a fireplace at night, huddled in a blanket would have felt like to humans, the warm taste haunting him and his mouth even hours later, making him lick his lips eagerly. He wasn't a vampire or anything like that, didn't crave human blood, but Grayson always licked his fingers clean after a game of tag with his victims, each time making sure to get every little drop of it.

He was in the middle of suckling on a finger, dragging his tongue over a patch of skin caked with blood, when he heard the telltale sound of flapping wings, and his nonexistent heart sank. Great, just what he needed. Grayson stayed where he stood while he finished cleaning his fingers, the silence in the church gradually filled with something impending, and when he was done, he let his hands fall to his sides and turned around with an unimpressed sigh to face the world's probably most annoying angel.

His twin brother. The one and only.

"Like what I've done with the place, E? This church needed a serious redecorating, and not that I wanna toot my own horn or anything, but I'd say I did a pretty decent job. Wouldn't you agree?"

Grayson flashed a teasing, amused grin at the angel scanning the room with a deep scowl on his face, his grin widening and revealing more of his teeth as their eyes locked, the other fixing him with a hard glare.

Ethan was a seraph, one of the most powerful and important angels up in cloud land, and Grayson had come to think of him as the nosy guardian angel he never asked for. In truth, he wanted his brother to leave him the fuck alone, especially since about a million ago Ethan had decided to choose the light and he the dark. But Ethan thought of himself as more of his guardian angel which, by far, he was doing a pretty sucktastic job at that-if he was supposed to be stopping Grayson from maiming and killing anything. Shouldn't Ethan be guarding the humans not him? Now that made more sense. If he was supposed to be doing that then he should've gotten an F rating a long time ago.

Grayson was a pretty damn powerful demon and he had the respect of the rest of the fiends of the Underworld, so it was a given for the angels to take an interest in him. He meant great trouble, especially since he wasn't one of those business sorta pansy demons that cut deals in order to get a human soul. Grayson beat the souls out of them, went on casual murder sprees, had even wondered if he should start an entrails collection, seeing how good he was at slaughtering. It was because the souls in Hell were too boring to torture, were too used to it. The surprise and denial in a human's face that had never seen a demon before was way better.

And while normally demons were strictly forbidden from going rogue and start hacking away at humanity, Grayson got a free pass because, one, he was a force to be reckoned with, two, he was pretty much Lucifer's favorite, and three, he still had manners and always cleaned up after himself. Well, he burned all the evidence, fire following his footsteps wherever he went.

Anyway, he was an unstoppable force, a hurricane of death and suffering, so of course those damn dweebs would send one of their best to keep an eye on him. And of course, it had to be Ethan because Ethan was the most annoying angel-and even more annoying brother-in probably all of existence.

Ethan was everywhere and he always seemed to impress Grayson with his horrible fashion choices and capability of pissing him off. That pure white suit was honestly the bleakest, ugliest thing he has ever seen on a person. Or more like on an angel, but yeah. Ethan kept tabs on him, kept showing up and demanding to know what he was up to, kept scolding him like he was some sort of freaking kid whenever he did something that was considered bad in the eyes of the Lord. Like they were kids again, like it wasn't Grayson own choice that he went dark side.

Grayson retaliated by burning some Bibles and breaking most of the Ten Commandments. Ethan also tried to stop him whenever he could, but Grayson was really good at ditching him, the angel only managing to find him when it was already much too late. But no matter how many times he told his twin to just leave him alone, because it wasn't like any good came out of watching him and failing repeatedly at stopping him from committing manslaughter, Ethan always refused. His obstinate, thick-skulled brother never listened, too focused on his mission as a loyal, honorable angel to realize that following Grayson around and babysitting him was useless, a complete waste of time.

And none of them were happy with the situation, obviously hated each other at this point seeing that Ethan was so far on the "good" and "holy" side of the playing field and Grayson was so far on the opposite side full of so-called "sin" and "evil." Didn't Ethan get that he wasn't becoming an angel anytime soon, that he'd made his choice all those years ago? He honestly couldn't understand why Ethan just couldn't grow a pair and stop this childish game they've been playing for years now.

Looking stern as ever, wearing the sort of disapproving expression that always made Grayson want to roll his eyes in contempt and laugh at him, Ethan motioned around the gore surrounding them. "Another church, Gray? When will you ever stop? You could at least pick a place that wasn't built on holy ground to carry out your loathsome activities, if you truly cannot control your bloodlust."

"Don't you ever get tired of having that stick up your ass?" Grayson scoffed, folding his arms and raising his eyebrows at his displeased twin, giving him a look.

"Killing in a church is fun. It's like a nice and big fuck you to you guys." He smirked. "Oh, I know! Next time I'll even wrap the corpses up in some pretty ribbons, make them a present for you. Would you like that, E? Would that make you happy? You still enjoy receiving presents, right?"

"Your language is as colorful as ever," Ethan remarked, before his features turned grim. Grayson slowly furrowed his brow as he watched him take several measured steps forward, walk toward him until they were almost an arm's reach from each other, his familiar, piercing brown eyes never leaving the demon as he stopped before him and said:

"You are getting out of control, Grayson. It has got to the point where we simply cannot allow you to go any further."

We. Ugh, his loyalty was nauseating.

Grayson snorted, moving his arms back to his sides and straightening defiantly, looking at his twin with somewhat challenging eyes.

"Oh yeah, E? Have you finally snapped? Am I about to hear some more of your scary little threats? Which one will it be today? The Cage? Complete eradication? A bath of Holy Water? I'm all ears, Ethan. Please do fascinate me."

The angel stared at him for a moment, as if trying to intimidate him with his penetrating gaze, then Grayson heard the sound of sliding metal and, as he glanced down, noticed the silver angel blade in Ethan's hand.

"No," Ethan said, looking down at his own blade before shifting his gaze back to his brother, eyes narrowing dangerously. "This time, I was sent to kill you. No threats. This is something I must do."

Kill you.

Well, that was new.

"I see, so the God squad finally grew tired of me. How sad." Grayson chuckled, licking his lips as he eyed Ethan's blade.

He has never killed an angel before, but even though he was pretty sure it would have been rather entertaining, he was also positive it wouldn't happen today. He wouldn't kill Ethan, because he was his brother, no matter how much of a stick he been shoved up his ass. He wasn't a real threat. All bark, but no bite.

Ethan wouldn't hurt Grayson, wouldn't have bothered warning him about it if he had any intention of causing him pain. If he truly wanted him dead, Grayson would have been lying on the floor with a hole in his chest by now. Because he was strong. Grayson wasn't going to lie—Ethan truly was one of the best warriors Heaven could have, just how he was Hell's most vicious monster, and a fight between them wouldn't end well. It might even accidentally mean the beginning of the Apocalypse.

So, not fearing the deadly weapon in the angel's hand, Grayson closed the distance between them with on stride and smiled, poking the tip of the blade when Ethan raised it threateningly to his throat. "Aw, don't be like that. Nobody likes a spoilsport."

"I am tried, Grayson," he stated. "I am so tired of fighting you. By killing you, I will save thousands of innocents. This is your fault, Gray. Your promiscuous and carefree lifestyle brought this upon you, and you can thank yourself for what's about to happen."

Ethan lowered the blade, slid it down the demon's chest until it reached his heart, and pressed the tip into the other's flesh. Not enough to break skin, to go through Grayson's dirty suit, but just enough for him to feel it, feel its lingering presence and the sweet promise of death. Dancing on the very edge like that was absolutely thrilling, though, and Grayson had to smirk, had to let the crooked smirk spread across his face as he leaned closer and into the blade, taking his brother off guard. Ethan looked up at him with a confused expression, as if he couldn't understand why Grayson wasn't pulling away instead or yelling or attacking him, going for his throat, then his eyes widened when his hand shot up and grabbed a hold of his white tie.

Grayson yanked him closer, grinning right in his face as his eyes switched to black. "Do it, then, E," he challenged daringly, taking a hold of Ethan's wrist with his other hand and pressing the blade further into his flesh, a fierce tingle shooting up his spine as he felt it finally break the skin a little. "Come on, Ethan. You great, big angel of the Lord. Smite me, put me in my place and kill the monster in front of you. It shouldn't be that hard—I'm practically begging for it."

"What are you doing, Gray?" Ethan asked, Adam's apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed while giving Grayson an uneasy glare. And it was at that moment that Grayson realized that Ethan was actually bothered by the closeness.

Sure, he was well in Ethan's personal space, though it wasn't like angels cared about something like that anyway. Least of all Ethan. At least he shouldn't, but Ethan looked like he was about to start sweating even though they had been close up to each other plenty of times before. But Ethan was looking pretty uncomfortable from how they were merely inches away from each other right then.

"What does it look like?" Grayson let out a soft laugh, a sneer twisting his lips as he tightened his grip on his twin's tie. "I'm begging for you to kill me, E. Put me out of my misery. Or...would you like me to drop to my knees and do it like that? Would you prefer me like that, Ethan?"

"This is no time for jokes," the angel stated, forcing the words out through gritted teeth and trying to unlatch Grayson's hands from him, but his efforts were useless. He then sighed in frustration and scowled unsurely at his brother.

"You should at least act mature in your time of death, Grayson. Taking this situation lightly won't do you any good. Now let go of me, and let's settle this as beings of high power."

"Settle? Ethan, you're fucked in the head. Do you wanna fight? I thought this was an execution." Grayson tilted his head almost innocently, the pools of black in his eyes glimmering with mischief as he leaned in, so very close now, and he could feel Ethan tensing and stilling to a complete statue under his hands. Odd.

"I was so bad. I am so bad, E, a naughty demon. I murder with cold blood, get off on it. I am such a despicable creature, and it's your job as a pure angel to end me right here, right now. Punish me, angel," he purred lowly, voice thick and sweet like honey as his breath ghosted over the other's skin, his lips, Grayson grinning lecherously as he added slowly, "any way you want..."

His curled lips hovered over Ethan's sinful ones as they watched each other, suspended in time for what seemed like an hour, but was most probably only a few seconds. He then chuckled and stepped back, letting go of his tie and wrist as he shrugged and said with a sneer, "But who am I kidding, a prude like you could never—"

Ethan was on him in a heartbeat, and whatever he wanted to say next got lost in Ethan's mouth. Grayson's hair got grabbed as he got yanked into the kiss, eyes actually going wide from shock, and it took his brain a second or two to process what was happening. Ethan was kissing him, and it wasn't a chaste or tentative kiss either; it was hot and demanding, as if his twin was proving a point with his tongue which, by the way, was sliding fervently alongside Grayson's and trying to choke him. It wasn't the most skilled kiss he had, was sloppy with too much tongue and teeth from Ethan's side, but he had never kissed Ethan before and knew his brother had never been this affectionate with anyone prior, so he forgave his clumsiness and kissed him back.

That obviously not something he had prepared for, Ethan's hand shook in his hair before he let go, broke the kiss and gazed at Grayson with a pair of uncertain, but oh so aroused eyes.

"My, Ethan," the demon drawled, licking his already wet lips seductively as he leered at the angel. "Did you just kiss a demon? In the house of the Lord? Tsk tsk tsk, I'm gonna have to confiscate your halo for that."

Ethan clenched his hands into fists, discarding his angel blade and surprising Grayson the second time this day by letting out a quiet growl. "This...this is all your fault," he spat, deep voice dripping with pent-up emotions, with forbidden lust. "You have done this to me. I'm not supposed to feel the way I do. It is wrong. It's unbecoming and I'm not allowed to, because you're a demon and I'm an angel, and we are brothers, and I should be erasing you from existence instead of this."

Wow, way to state the obvious, Ethan.

Rolling his eyes, Grayson planted a hand on his hip. "Oh come on, don't blame your sexual wants on me, bro. I mean yeah, sure, I know I'm hot and you're a total narcissist, E, because we look the same, but you kissing me ain't just my fault," he said, a suggestive smile crossing his face as he glanced at the other's crotch. "Pretty sure that's got something to do with it, too."

He actually followed his gaze and then, oh my, was that a blush on his face? Grayson laughed, this situation too hilarious, then was about to peace out and go slaughter a lamb, getting bored of teasing Ethan for today, when he suddenly found himself getting cornered. He got slammed into a marble wall, one that wasn't covered with blood, with Ethan staring at him like a wolf, his twin apparently totally losing it.

"No. No, it's not me, it's you. Always you," he growled, eyes suddenly seeming so much darker, and Grayson felt like his breath got stuck in his throat, even though he didn't need to breathe. "Gray. It's your fault, and I will make you pay."

"Make me pay? Are you even listening to yourself?" Grayson sneered, then hissed and nearly let a gasp escape him as the angel ripped his suit jacket off before doing the same to his shirt. Ethan had his eager hands on his bare chest right away, touching and stroking, scratching, eyes glimmering and mesmerized, but also so full of desire as he watched his own fingers play with his tight, soft skin.

However, Grayson wasn't so awed, not having that much fun now that the tables have turned, even though Ethan's fingers felt so fucking good. He needed to stay in charge here, grab the situation by its throat and order it to behave. He couldn't afford to be seen as weak, especially by Ethan.

(Although, let's be real here; both Ethan and Grayson had seen each other weak plenty of times but just like the men they were-or angel and demon, whatever-they still had that macho mentality about them even after all these years.)

That was easier said than done, because Ethan who was supposed to be inexperienced and pure and whatnot, damn it, was now sucking on his neck while stroking his waist, and Grayson was finding it kinda hard to think straight, let alone stop the sounds forcing themselves past his lips.

But he still tried. "Hah, look at you," Grayson sneered, neck bared and smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as Ethan licked a wet stripe up his neck. He sucked in a sharp breath, then grabbed Ethan by his hair and yanked him away, just enough to be able to look into his dilated, glowing eyes.

"You are gonna do it, hmm? Touching a demon...what a dirty angel you are."

"Shut your mouth, Gray," Ethan hissed, his face an open book telling a story of pure lust and uncontrollable want, and then he quite literally attacked Grayson's lips, planting his plump ones on them and kissing the living Hell out of him. Pun intended.

Grayson growled, catching the angel's tongue between his teeth and tugging at it. Strange, Ethan even tasted pure. If light, shining and radiant, had a taste, that would have been his twin's mouth. Nobody had tasted this nice before, either, so Grayson kept kissing him, bringing his hands to the other's neck while moving his lips lazily, contrary to Ethan, who was practically trying to eat his mouth. He licked and kissed the demon as if urgently, small groans muffled as he opened and closed his mouth, licking into the other's until he had tasted every inch of skin and teeth, and then he was gone again, this time moving on to Grayson's ear and actually biting down on it.

He arched into Ethan's hands and teeth, his black soul snaking pleasedly at the surprisingly violent bite. "Ah, fuck, E," he moaned right in the angel's ear, a victorious little grin gracing his lips as he noticed the other shiver, and with Ethan's mouth right next to his ear, this time he couldn't miss the low, deep growl that seeped past his lips.

"You're sinful, Grayson," the angel whispered in his ear, before licking along the outline of it, and Grayson hummed. "So wrong. I should really just kill you right now." That is what he said, but Ethan was grinding against him with each word, hands finding their way to the demon's ass and pulling him closer.

A hoarse chuckle left Grayson, and he raked his fingers down his back, frowning because Ethan really needed to get rid of those stupid clothes, like ASAP.

"And yet you're kissing me, E," he drawled, eyes switching back to black as he grabbed his biceps and gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling back while he grinned wolfishly at him.

"You wanna get dirtied, don't ya? I could do that. I'm good at ruining pretty things, you know that." He winked, leaning against the cold wall and running a hand down his chest while watching Ethan, grin widening dangerously when the angel raised a hand to his own tie and ripped it off before, finally, shrugging out of his suit jacket and other clothes. And oh wow, the Ethan certainly looked heavenly naked. Grayson had almost forgotten what he looked like without that white suit. He had those deliciously slim muscles littering his whole body, strong arms and broad shoulders, a gorgeous and toned chest, abs humans would have killed for and...he had one impressive package. Ethan stripped down completely, so out of it he didn't even realize—or maybe just didn't mind altogether—how some of his clothes ended up in puddles of blood, something that made Grayson realize that they were still in a church, surrounded by corpses.

Fuck, if this wasn't blasphemy, he wasn't sure what was.

Not staring at Ethan's sizeable member was like asking the Earth to stop spinning. It was ridiculously impossible. His twin was thick and long-although not as long as Grayson-even though he was only half hard, it standing proudly between nice, familiar legs. Unlike Grayson's own legs, Ethan's were void of the tattoos that he himself marked his earthly flesh with.

"Not bad, E," he purred, eyes shamelessly roaming Ethan's body before settling on his face, and he shot the other a foxy look. "Haven't seen you like this for years. You gonna fuck me with that, E? Shove your angel dick up my ass? Come on, I'm getting bored." He licked his lips, slowly, temptingly, then turned around and put his hands on the wall, pushed his hips out before looking back over his shoulder at him, smiling. "So? You gonna make me wait forever?"

Ethan didn't hesitate. He strode over to him, grabbed his waist, and then immediately sank his teeth in Grayson's shoulder. The demon gasped and groaned in appreciation, rubbing his ass against the other's shaft, grinning to himself when Ethan unbuttoned his pants and ripped them off of him, along with his jet-black boxers. Grayson helped by kicking the clothes off, toes curling when he got rid of his shoes as well, then let out a breathy moan when he felt the angel's hot cock sliding against the cleft of his ass, Ethan sorta humping him and...was he hugging him from behind?

He laughed, dark and deep, eyes narrowing lazily as the angel placed kisses on the nape of his neck. "Hurry up, Ethan. Fuck me already, or I'll go and find someone else who'll do the job," he sneered, hips rolling invitingly, slithering like a venomous snake. "Someone else who'll bend me over and screw me good and rough, you know? I bet I could find a demon, maybe even another angel who'll make me scream."

He waited for a reaction, which he got almost immediately. Ethan reached around and grabbed the demon's own member, which was already hard and aching to be touched, the aggressive act when his erection got squeezed harshly drawing a long moan out of him.

"Nobody," the angel hissed into his neck, Grayson's head falling forward, overgrown dark hair a curtain that blocked his view of his twin's face. "You won't let anyone else touch you ever again, you understand me? And you won't go around having sex with other people either. You and your filthy mouth belong to me now."

"Oh yeah, E? Since when did you start getting this possessive? Angels don't own demons, silly," Grayson scoffed, then shifted and spread his legs momentarily, until he had his member between them, before pressing his thighs together and trapping Ethan's throbbing flesh. "I think I'm the one who's got you on a leash."

Just as he anticipated, because he's awesome like that, Grayson chuckled when Ethan's hips jerked, and then he was moving, thrusting away between the demon's thighs. Ethan could barely take this new sensation; he could feel Ethan's control slipping away, though the hand he had on Grayson's cock was still firm as an iron shackle, making him growl and frown because he was just gripping him but not moving his hand.

"You." Ethan thrust wildly, snapping his hips forward so hard it wasn't long before Grayson was pressed completely up against the wall, with the angel's hand still on his erection. "You have no power over me, Gray," he spat, Grayson about to laugh again at that ridiculous statement, but instead of mocking him, he found himself crying out, voice high pitched and close to an actual scream when Ethan's dick was suddenly gone, along with his hand, and then very quickly reappeared, this time in his ass.

Not bothering with fingers, with any prep, not even with some spit, Ethan was forcing the head of his cock into him, and while Grayson was totally into pain, when he could actually feel it, having a dick shoved up his ass all dry like this wasn't that much fun.

"Fuckin' Hell, Ethan. You're fuckin' mad, baby. You can't just push yourself in there!" he snapped, elbowing the other, but he didn't seem to be listening, bent on tearing his ass open or something, so Grayson grunted and used his powers to snatch all the strength from his brother's legs.

Ethan made a sound that resembled a yelp as he fell to his knees, what little of his cock he managed to force into Grayson slipping out and making the demon sigh in relief.

"What was that for?" Ethan demanded, glaring up at Grayson a bit confusedly, making him roll his eyes.

"I know you're a virgin, but you've had like a millennium to learn about sex, E. Damn. You should at least know that you don't go in raw and dry like that," he said with a glare of his own, before his expression darkened into something else, a grin slowly settling on his lips. "It's much more fun when you use lube."

"I don't have lube," Ethan stated dumbly, and Grayson fought the urge to facepalm himself.

"No shit, Ethan. I know. I'm well aware." He snapped his fingers, returning the angel's strength, and took a step forward when Ethan was standing again. "I've gotta do everything, just like always," he said with a sigh, flashing the other an enticing look before dropping to his knees.

"No, you don't."

"Shut up. Try not to move too much," he purred and took a hold of Ethan, giving the tip a tentative lick, chuckling when the angel jumped. "Told you to stay still."

"What are you doing?" Ethan asked, a hand going to the other's hair and gripping it firmly.

"What does it look like, genius?" Grayson looked up at him, raising his eyebrows. "I'm gonna suck you off until your pretty dick's covered in spit. But don't get too cocky," he said, wicked grin twisting his lips as he stroked him with a glint of sadistic mischief in his eyes. "Your cock ain't gonna be the first one in my mouth..."

He felt the sick glee in his chest as Ethan's eyes narrowed, as the hold on his hair tightened painfully. "Grayson, you're a bitch," the angel growled harshly, barely flinching when he realized what he said in such a holy place, seemingly too far gone to be that bothered by the fact that he was a celestial being.

And what a lucky celestial being he was, Grayson thought as he hummed in agreement, rubbing his cheek against the other's cock before swallowing it. It was true, this wasn't his first time. He liked to experiment, had done pretty much everything, screwed everyone. It was only his ass that was still untouched, and now he was going to hand it over to Ethan. He wondered if that was a good idea, letting an such a "pure" angel take him, a vicious demon, but that was only a brief thought, because Ethan's dick was so heavy and thick in his mouth already, and Grayson was getting harder from the mere thought of having that monster pounding his ass. At this point, he was surprised it hadn't happened already.

He moaned obscenely around the other's length, batting his eyelashes at him as they watched each other, Ethan looking like he was about to faint or something. His eyes were wide and glowing with a faint blue grace, he was panting and instead of listening to Grayson, because why would he, he kept bucking forward, shoving his cock down the demon's throat as much as possible. Grayson didn't really have any gag reflexes anymore, but damn, Ethan was big and even he had to strain himself to deepthroat him, to take all of him in. His jaw ached and his nostrils were flared as he took deep breaths, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked hard, feeling the member twitch in his mouth. He turned and bobbed his head, cupping Ethan's balls and fondling them as he pulled back a bit, suckling on the head of him and swirling his tongue along the underside of it, poking it with the tip of the wet, wiggling flesh, then lapped at the slit, sucking out some pre-come before finally unlatching his lips from around Ethan's erection with a loud pop.

Licking his lips like he just finished a meal, he got to his feet and backed into the wall. "There, nice and shiny. You can go ahead and stick it in me, if you want," he said as if lazily, drawling the words like they were made of sweet, deadly syrup.

Ethan closed the distance between them in less than half a second, but when Grayson tried to turn around, he got grabbed and slammed back into the wall, a sudden chill spreading across his body as his back was pressed into the cool marble. "You won't move, Gray," the angel barked, before swiftly grabbing the other's legs and wrapping them around his waist, Grayson having to throw his arms around Ethan's neck if he didn't want to slump to the floor.

He swallowed, not that big of a fan of this position.

"Aw E, wanna look at me while you fuck me?" he mocked, wiggling his hips while trying to unwrap his legs from around the other's waist. "Come on, wouldn't it be much more fun if I turned around? I could even get on my hands and knees for you," Grayson purred in an alarmingly low tone, hypnotizing voice dripping with a carnal lust. "I'd let you fuck my virgin ass like that, let you push me down and make me take, just for today."

But instead of biting down on the bait, Ethan just grinned at him, and Grayson felt suddenly weak all over his body. Ethan didn't grin. His twin smirked from time to time, it usually bitter and humorless, thin, but he had never grinned before. And this grin wasn't all that nice either—it was like Grayson was staring at a demon, the other's lips twisting into something that looked like a sneer painted over with desire and stretched into a lecherous grin.

"No, you're not moving," he stated matter-of-factly, leaning in close and guiding the tip of his dick to the other's entrance. "And don't you even think that I will have you once and that's it. I'm not one of your one-night stands, your... toys. What we're doing is not screwing," Ethan growled, and just like that, he was sliding into Grayson again, this time a bit more easily but also much more forcefully, and the demon couldn't help but throw his head back and close his eyes, body tensing up, because even with the spit, it still burned. "I'm claiming you, Grayson. As an angel, I am going to bind you to me, and make you mine...officially...until the end of times."

The demon's eyes flew open at that, wanting to protest, to squirm, because he sure as hell did not want to do anything along the lines of getting bound to Ethan. Sure, they were twins and all and probably the closest two beings in all of existence, but just...no. That was like the demon equivalent of marriage, no, it was worse than that. He has heard of it before, of a powerful binding spell that came easily to angels. A few Enochian words here, a symbol there, and then whoever the spell was used on would be forever connected to the one that cast it, body and soul.

So yeah, thanks but no thanks, Grayson was not going to be married to Ethan, no matter how much they probably-let's be honest here most definitely-were already married.

"I'd like to see you try," he hissed with a groan as Ethan began slowly thrusting in him to get more and more of his member inside. Okay, so maybe Grayson forgot that they were fucking and that stopping the angel now might be a bit difficult, but that was fine. He had that chicken-winged seraph twin brother wrapped around his little finger, so it shouldn't take much to have him under his control again. He sank his nails into the other's back, tearing at the soft and warm flesh, needing a moment to regain himself, and then forced his lips to stretch into a snarl as he shot a weak glare at the angel.

"Wanna tame me, E? Keep me all to yourself? Mmm, you wouldn't be the first one to try, but"—he clenched his ass deliberately, relishing in the way Ethan let a curse slip past his lips before looking all guilty—"sorry, I'm just not the type that can be kept in a cage."

Ethan gripped his thighs so hard he could feel every single fingertip, felt them dig into his skin in a way that would have broken a human's bones already, but for him, it'd only just leave some bruises behind. "What you think is meaningless," the angel growled with a brutal snap of his hips, causing Grayson's whole body to jerk and his mouth to fall open in a gasp. "You're not getting a say in this, Gray. You have caused too much harm to humanity." He smirked, and the demon shivered. "You and I will be together forever."

"You wish—" Grayson sneered, but then the angel began thrusting for real, going from zero to one hundred real fucking quick, and his body was getting rocked by each merciless slam of the other's hips.

He wanted to keep teasing Ethan, to drive him nuts and laugh while the seraph tried to stay in control of the situation, but he couldn't even go a second without a tsunami of sensations assaulting his ass as Ethan pounded it roughly. He couldn't think long enough to try to be slutty, to regain control, not with the continuous slip and slide of the other's incredible force, the pain of it only adding to the white-hot pleasure and ripping loud moan after moan out of Grayson. He felt like bursting, couldn't do anything but hold onto the angel as he fucked him into the wall pressed painfully against his back, brain short-circuiting and forgetting all about the spell as his back arched and head fell back.

"Oh fuck, oh my god," he mewled, panting heavily as he wrapped his legs around the other tighter, tried to slam his body down and impale himself on him, crying out loudly and so lewdly each time his prostate got hit. "Ethan, fuck, yes! More! Shit, fuck me more, harder, E!"

He felt as if his body was burning up, kept gasping and, damn it, whimpering as he moved inside him, filling him to the brim. It felt incredible, Grayson never guessing that getting fucked could be better than doing the fucking, and maybe, just maybe, this was even more enjoyable than murder. He tried his best, his very best not to sound pathetic. Not wanting to fall apart under a celestial being's hands, much less Ethan's, because he still had his pride, the demon clawed at the other's back and urged him on, ordering and taunting him.

"You can do better, come on angel, I can barely f-feel a thing," he sneered weakly, mewling in ecstasy as Ethan picked up the pace and rammed himself deeper in the other, unrelenting thrusts turning brutal and just plain violent.

Grayson was screaming. His orders and jeers gradually turned into pleas, into high-pitched cries for more, for mercy, begging an angel to take him. Delirious, his body overwhelmed by the shockwaves of pleasure that thrummed through him so often it just felt like it never stopped, a continuous wave of buzzing energy and desire. At one point, he was so out of it he thought he could actually hear his blood boiling, hear the flames that were licking at his body and setting it on fire, but then he soon realized he wasn't hallucinating, because the church was on fire. The candles were burning furiously and so were some of the furniture, the pews engulfed in roaring flames, Grayson's powers apparently going out of control with the sensation of Ethan so close to him. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan. His angel. His Ethan.

He didn't seem to be the only one affected by the sex, though. Ethan was buzzing, his skin tingling as if his soul was purring, it feeling ticklish and amazing against Grayson's fingers and bottom. The angel's grace was pulsing, and he could've sworn that he could sometimes see Ethan's wings, taut and stretched out behind his back, the pearl-white feathers radiating so beautifully the demon felt mesmerized, hand reaching out to touch, but he could never quite curl his fingers into the surely soft, fluffy feathers, as they kept blinking out of existence. And Grayson kept moaning and keening wantonly, so yeah, focusing long enough to actually touch Ethan's wings wasn't an easy task.

"Gray, Gray, this...so good, Grayson," he was groaning and panting into his ear, biting and kissing any skin he could get to, and Grayson was drunk on it all, baring his neck and whining. He was so out of it he barely registered when Ethan began mumbling something in Enochian, when he used the blood from one of the wounds he made to draw something on Grayson's chest, the demon only realizing that he has been bested when the blood sigil began glowing brightly, and he gasped, cursing and trying to wipe it away. But Ethan grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall, Grayson nearly sliding to the floor now that he wasn't holding onto the angel's shoulders, but the other's relentless thrusts kept his body in place, the demon bouncing helplessly as he was pretty much made silly, unable to do a thing aside from taking it all and moaning miserably.

And then he felt it. It was odd, but he could actually feel the second they connected, the moment the spell began working and bound their souls together. It made him emit a horrible, pitiful and needy, almost wounded sound, his body arching and back leaning away from the wall as first tiny sparks, and then a whole firework went off in his chest, his pitch black soul shining for a passing moment as an invisible string curled around it and held on tight. Like a magnet, he could suddenly feel himself being drawn to Ethan, to his very being, and as if thinking of the same thing, they looked at each other before their lips met in a passionate kiss, hot and desperate and so right that Grayson forgot he was a demon and that Ethan was an angel, that they were so different yet so the same, all at once, and let out a wretched sob. The hands that were wrapped around his wrists moved up, Ethan intertwining their fingers as he held the other's hands against the wall, lips moving fervently as if on a mission, and Grayson was getting dizzy, eyes sliding shut as he sighed into the absolutely perfect kiss and rolled his hips longingly, as the angel had slowed his thrusts but he needed more.

The flames around them were roaring now, howling with power and hunger, and Grayson was shaking. He was actually trembling, toes curling as he tried so desperately to keep his weakening legs around his waist, pitiful and degrading sounds leaving him as he was rendered to a writhing, moaning mess, but he couldn't even hate himself and Ethan for it, his head was too clouded, thoughts too hazy. One particularly hard thrust had him screaming, pleasure rumbling through him like an earthquake, shattering him until his whole body tensed, head falling forward before getting thrown back, mouth hanging open as he came, just like that.

"E-Ethan!" he cried, squeezing his eyes shut as one of, no, the most intense orgasm he ever experienced hit him, Grayson feeling it body and soul. He didn't even touch his own member, not even once, but he was coming hard, all the strength and energy sucked right out of him and leaving his body with each spurt of come landing on his abdomen. He felt like fainting, even though he wasn't capable of that, or maybe now he was, who knows? Grayson was panting heavily, would have loved to just collapse onto the floor and stay there for some time, and his legs were already sliding down, but no, because Ethan wasn't finished.

The angel let go of his hands and grabbed his thighs, hooking his hands under Grayson's knees and freaking pushing them all the way up to his shoulders, practically folding the demon in half and pressing him so hard into the wall, he was pretty sure he heard the marble crack beneath his back. Thank Satan he was agile.

Grayson couldn't have been certain, as he was still coming down from his own, but it was like he could feel Ethan's orgasm. Not the way his hips jerked, thrusts becoming erratic before halting, as he filled the demon with his hot come. He felt that too, sure, how could he not, but there was something else. It was like he was coming again, felt a familiar and warm tingle spread through him, like a whisper, a faint memory, an echo of an orgasm, Ethan's orgasm. So this was what being bound meant, he realized. Sensing and feeling the other in ways that should have been impossible, experiencing emotions and sensations as if they were his own.

He was clinging to Ethan again and when the angel finally let go of him, Grayson slumped to the floor, bringing the other with him and making sure his possessive twin hit his knees as they collapsed. The warm cock had slipped out of him, but his legs were still spread, Ethan kneeling between them and watching something, and when Grayson lowered his gaze to look at what the angel was staring at, he actually almost blushed. Ethan's come was slowly seeping out of him, trickling down his skin and forming a tiny puddle on the cold tiles, the sight obviously fascinating the other while the demon just didn't know if he should feel regretful and humiliated, or just start laughing at his reaction.

"What does it feel like?" he asked with a little sneer, trying to get his breathing under control as he flashed a sultry look at Ethan. "Losing your purity as an angel and dirtying your hands...can you feel the other angels judging you?"

Ethan scowled at him, then leaned in and simply kissed him, Grayson making sure to bite the other's lips. "Never mind that," the angel mumbled against his lips, gliding a hand to the demon's chest. "What about you? Did you enjoy getting ravished by an angel? Big scary demon? You're such a big, scary demon, Gray. But you love me, don't you? You love me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Grayson rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He smirked, running his thumb along Grayson's bottom lip and then withdrawing it just before the demon could've bit him. "No more misbehaving."

"You pompous Jesus freak," Grayson said, shooting a glare at him. "I can't make promises."

Ethan smiled sadly, leaning in and giving him a kiss, which Grayson gladly accepted, biting him teasingly.

"Ever wonder if, maybe, you can actually feel it?" the angel asked sweetly, wrapping his arms around Grayson before he could've pushed him away and, great, pulling him into a hug. Just what he needed.

"Feel what?"

"Love. Real love."

He put on his best bitchface and looked at Ethan. "No. I'm a demon, remember? Not really capable of feeling shit like that."

"Well then," the angel said, "I suppose I'll just have to change that. Sooner or later, Gray, you're going to feel something."

"Yeah, and it'll probably be the uncontrollable urge to bash your face in."

Ethan laughed, the sound genuine and if Grayson wouldn't have known better, he'd have said his heart skipped a beat. As if. "Hopefully not." He raised a hand to the demon's cheek and caressed it. "I love you, Gray. You will be good again."

"We'll see about that," Grayson scoffed, but didn't lean away from his hand.

"Is that a challenge?" Ethan flashed a smirk at him, eyes full of glee and something roguish.

This time, the demon couldn't stop the smile from curling his lips, his own eyes narrowing playfully. "Sure. Not likely, E. But I wanna see you try."

"I will..." the angel whispered and placed a gentle kiss on his nose, and Grayson averted his eyes, feeling a stubborn blush heating up his face. Perfect. Ethan's presence was irritating before, but now that they were connected, now that the his twin had made it his mission to turn him good once again, Grayson would see even more of him. Which would be a living nightmare, surely, so he wasn't smiling and kissing the angel, wasn't secretly looking forward to the upcoming years, of course he wasn't.

Of course.


	10. Heat (Or the Lack Thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan is having a hard time going into heat due to a past trauma. Since going into heat is so important for an omega's physical and mental health, Grayson is fully prepared to help him out.

10.

Ethan & Grayson, 21

\----

Grayson closed the calendar ap on his phone with a sigh.

Ethan knew why; the ap tracked an omega's annual heat, and according to its algorithm, Ethan had just missed his window. Again. "Grayson, it's fine. I told you I don't even like you using that creepy thing. Let me have my privacy, okay?"

"Ethan. C'mon. This isn't healthy."

"You know how it is," said Ethan, trying not to hunch over on Grayson's bed. In some weird way, he almost felt like he was letting him down. He didn't think it was a coincidence that Grayson had chosen this week to make sure every meeting they had for their YouTube career was cut, how he was paying so much attention to him (well, more than he usually did), how he didn't want Ethan even stepping out of their L.A. house in case he went into heat in say, the grocery store or something.

"These things happen."

Grayson snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm not letting it happen, not this time, E."

"You know that's a myth," said Ethan, rolling his eyes. "It's all just hormones."

"I know that Dr. Google says traumatic experiences can throw an omega off-cycle."

Ethan pulled a face. He didn't want to think about that.

"Look, I'm just saying, I'm the closest thing you've got to an Alpha. Let's just give it a try, okay?"

Ethan snarled lowly, giving the bigger male a warning look. These days Grayson usually knew better than to pull that Alpha shit with him; weren't half their fights about the fact that Grayson thought he knew better than Ethan about what was good for him? Didn't Grayson's stupid, overprotective macho bullshit usually end up getting them both into trouble? They were supposed to be on the same playing field. Equals. It didn't help that Grayson acted like his own personal bodyguard all the time, a big shadow that followed him everywhere, even to safe places like the garage or the backyard, like Ethan was made of glass and could just shatter at any moment. He could, in fact, work out on his own without just collapsing from exhaustion. He'd done it. Several times, thank you.

"Hey, woah-woah-woah," said Grayson, raising his hands, evidently not quite stupid enough to keep pushing it after that. "I'm sorry. Okay? Shit, E. I'm just trying to make you feel better."

"It's not your job. You may be the only Alpha in my life, but you're not my alpha."

Or more accurately, maybe Ethan was an omega, but he wasn't Grayson's omega.

Even though it wasn't uncommon for A/O sibling pairs to mate, especially twins- and even though most people assumed Grayson and Ethan already had (internet rumors wouldn't let that theory up) - since puberty Ethan had always resisted any of Grayson's efforts at courtship.

He thought the words would hurt Grayson, make him back off, but to his surprise Grayson's expression was accepting. He stepped in closer, putting a hand on Ethan's shoulder gently. "I know that, E. I promise, I do. I know we're not – you don't – I know you can do a lot better than me. But I can still do this for you. I can give you this, and then you can find a proper mate, your real mate, who'll give you what you need. But how are you going to find them if you never go into heat again, huh?"

Ethan groaned. He had never liked the way Grayson talked about himself, like he wasn't good enough or something when, in reality, there was probably about a million omegas out there soaking wet with just the thought of getting to be knotted by Grayson.

"Gray, it's not like that... " To his own frustration his voice cracked, which had been happening more and more to him lately. It was supposed to be a sign of hormone imbalance.

"Hey, shush shush, it's okay. It's okay. Don't have to say anything, E. It's all alright. I'm not mad, I get it. But can you let me try? Please?"

"Gray ..." Ethan really didn't want to do this. Well, he mostly didn't want to do this. But he could barely resist his twin, especially since Grayson always reeked of Alpha in the most physical and physiological sense of the word- at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times. His body was worn down from preparing for a heat that had never come, and his nerves were frayed. In truth, he knew that Grayson sincerely wanted to help him out, especially seeing how much the stress had taken a toll on him physically and emotionally.

Ethan knew his brother better than anyone else, and should have anticipated that Grayson would assume – what, that Ethan thought was too good for him? That Grayson wasn't a worthy Alpha, that he wouldn't be proud to have Gray in his life? That wasn't it at all. Ethan had just always needed to prove to himself and the world that he could handle himself, omega or not.

"Look," said Grayson, walking over to his drawer and rummaging through a side space, pulling out some folded pages. Ethan eyes wandered over his toned back clothed by a tight-fitting workout shirt, the way that his distinct biceps moved subtly with the movement of his thick, long fingers.

"I found these exercises on the internet. I thought maybe we could try them."

Ethan was momentarily confused - exercises? Like they were going to work out? - but Grayson was smoothing out the printed page on his white comforter: Trust Exercises For Omegas: Promote a Healthy Bond and Relax your Mate.

Ethan barely skimmed the first few items on the list (#1: Aromatherapy. #2: Massage) before he pushed the page away, embarrassed.

"Gray ..."

But Grayson was already holding up a baby blue candle, one from their own Wakeheart Crystal Candles collection, no less, waving it enticingly. The label said "RELAX."

"Uh, I really don't think ..."

"Shh, come on, E, let's just give this a try. If you don't like it, we can stop any time. Okay? Just try to relax, E." Grayson lit the candle and set it on the dresser, then rubbed his hands together.

Ethan could smell something already; he thought it was mostly lavender.

"There we go. Just – please, E, and let me take care of you, huh?"

Ethan had to close his eyes, pretending that he didn't feel a stab of want at that file-rough voice coaxing him so gently. It was the same voice that had sweet-talked him all his life – from going out to L.A. at the young age of fifteen to start their YouTube careers to going out with him to skateboard late into the night, when the sky was the color of silk, the stars like crushed diamonds against its magnificent backdrop.

And right now he was just so tired. He hadn't been able to sleep well lately, and his appetite had been off. He'd actually started to think this might be the year. But like every year since he was seventeen and was attacked so viciously by that repulsive, malevolent Alpha when they were on their 4OU tour, his heat had passed him.

So now if Grayson so desperately wanted to feed him hot tea and rub his back, wanted to clearly help him feel an ounce of better, he guessed he could live with it.

"Fine," he said, not meeting his brother's eyes. "If you think you can help."

Grayson smiled in that way that made him look kind of like an oversized dog.

"That's great, E," he said, sounding honestly relieved, which just made Ethan feel worse.

"Thank you." He stepped closer – Ethan closed his eyes – and then he felt gentle fingers pushing his hair back from his forehead. "Shhhhh," Grayson whispered, stroking his cheek tenderly.

"C'mon, Grayson, don't – "

"Sorry, sorry." Came Grayson voice, a little embarrassed, he himself overwhelmed with the instinct to protect and take care of the hurting omega on the bed, "I know. You don't like that stuff. Alright, E. Strip."

"Wait - what?"

"Now, E."

"Umm, I thought you were going to like, give me a backrub, why would I need to be naked?" Ethan swallowed, glancing up at his twin who was giving him the most peaceful, calming look.

Grayson took the edge of his shirt between his large fingers, pulling gently at the cloth, exposing Ethan's belly. Ethan looked down, distracted, to find that he had to move his arms up because he was already trying to pull it over his head. "Grayson ..."

"E, it's been more than four years, do you really think a backrub will send you into heat? I know I'm good with my hands, but nobody's that good." Grayson was quick with the fly of Ethan's jeans, laughing at Ethan's squawks of indignation.

"Here we go, lift your arms," said Grayson, tugging his shirt up briskly. Ethan's smart retort was muffled by fabric. It was dark underneath, like a blanket fort. Grayson - quite deliberately, Ethan was sure - left it trapped over his head.

"Mmph," Ethan protested, through a mouthful of fabric.

Grayson patted his hip reassuringly and kept stripping him, taking the opportunity to feel up his ribs. Ethan twisted away, still wrestling ineffectually with the shirt.

"Need to put some more meat on your bones, E. You're getting really skinny," said Grayson, unrepentant. His fingers skated over Ethan's nipples, tweaking playfully as Ethan tried futilely to slap him away. Then his hands turned gentle, smoothing over Ethan's sides, down to his hips. "When's the last time you had a good meal, huh?"

Ethan finally got himself free. "Dickhead," he muttered, tossing the material to the floor of Grayson's bedroom.

"Now, E, let's get you turned away – " Grayson's hands on his shoulders, rotating him slowly, guiding him into the corner beside the computer desk. "That's it. Just like that. No no, keep your eyes forward."

Ethan knew what Grayson was doing. He thought by making Ethan feel exposed and vulnerable, he could bring out those latent omega hormones. Probably some more nonsense from the internet - like if he could ground Ethan in his feeble body instead of his head, he could coax out Ethan's heat. But it wouldn't work. Ethan had a lot of experience overcoming his own instincts.

Grayson dropped a hand on his back and traced it down his spine. "Shhhh, just breathe. It's me, E. It's just me." He whispered in a deep, soothing rumble.

"I know, Gray." Ethan deadpanned.

"Shh, E," said Grayson, guiding his head down to look at the floor and not letting him lift it.

Ethan growled at the move, but Grayson was saying something very soothing that was quickly turning a little naughty. Ethan knew that Grayson was trying his best to trigger his heat but that didn't mean what he was saying did cause a blush to form on his face.

"Aw, c'mon. You look good like this," said Grayson, rubbing his back. "You're all flushed pink back here. You're not embarrassed, are you? You look so sexy, E. You know that? You know how good you smell right now? Do you have any idea what that's doing to me, an Alpha? Your skin is so soft, so supple, so smooth. Kissable. Bitable."

He squeezed Ethan's ass through his boxers, not lasciviously, but with affection. Ethan squeaked anyway, high pitched. Grayson's hands were gentle, but his fingers left points of heat even after he let go.

Ethan was embarrassed, to be naked when Grayson was fully dressed, and to be put in the corner of Grayson's bedroom like he'd done something wrong.

"You've got a cute little 'mega butt, E," Grayson confided, rubbing the backside in question. "Nice and round. I'm jealous. Seriously."

He gave it another pat like he couldn't quite stop touching it, and without warning began gently guiding Ethan's boxer's down.

"Grayson - Ah! Grayson, what are you - what are you doing?" Ethan said, suddenly a little freaked out.

"Hey hey." Grayson rumbled, looking down at him, his eyes suddenly soft. He shook his head, his brown eyes dancing over Ethan's face, "I'm not going to hurt you. Never. I'd never hurt you. I'm just trying to help, that's all. Just relax. Relax for me, E." He reached forward and clasped the back of Ethan's neck, finding the right spot immediately, causing Ethan's muscles to automatically loosen.

Ethan grunted softly at the familiar touch. Grayson loved to touch him there, especially when they hugged.

"There we go. Just breathe, E."

It was hard to talk when Grayson still had him by the back of the neck. It was hard even to think straight.

"There we go, that's my Ethan."

Grayson let him go, but the effect of the hold would likely linger for a while. Ethan wondered how he'd known exactly where to press, how to position his fingers. It's wasn't like when they hugged, no. It felt different. More primal. More...possessive. As far as he knew Grayson didn't like to mess around with omegas, preferring beta women – and some men, when he had the chance. Ethan tried to pretend the thought of Grayson with another omega didn't bother him.

"Let's get those eyes closed, huh?"

Ethan hummed as his vision was cut off by Grayson's hand, sliding down over his forehead. It was quiet and still in the dark. Then something soft and light was swaddled over his eyes, blinding him, and tied off tightly behind his head.

Grayson patted his shoulder again, his mouth right next to his ear, breathing softly. "Nobody's trying to embarrass you, E. Think of it like a medical treatment - if you busted your tailbone on the ramp again, you'd let me ice it, wouldn't you? If you dislocated your shoulder, you'd suck it up and let me pop it back, right bro?"

Suck it up, a poor choice of phrase, thought Ethan dazedly.

"Well, the medical need here is a little different, that's all."

Grayson drew his boxers down to his knees, keeping Ethan turned away. "Now, you going to let me look at you?" There was a hint of a smile in Grayson's voice at Ethan's sudden submissiveness, "Yeah you are. Blushing back here on these cheeks too, aren't you?"

Ethan whined softly, Grayson's Alpha scent-musky and strong-combined with his rumbling voice and large, strong hands, making his feel a little lightheaded with want.

"Alright, baby, take some nice deep breaths. I'm right here."

Grayson wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. Ethan could feel him scenting, gentle huffs that fluttered a warm breeze over the back of his neck. He couldn't help leaning back into the touch.

"That's my E," Grayson whispered, letting him take his time before slowly pulling away. "I think you're okay to stand here just like this for a minute, huh? Gonna feel nice and calm. I'm just going to take care of a few things. Stay here for me."

Ethan listened, his ears pricked, while Grayson clattered around behind him, probably making more noise than necessary because he knew Ethan needed to hear him.

Under the blindfold it was dark and quiet. The scent of lavender was much more noticeable this way. Ethan forced himself not to fidget, to take deep breaths, to keep still.

He remembered the trauma, the Alpha's breath, how he smelled like energy drinks and cigarettes, how he'd tried to bite him when he was done, had tried to claim him, how Grayson had busted down the door just in time, had torn into the man...had...

But he didn't want that dark memory of the past here in the present. He needed to heal. He had to heal in order to move forward in his life.

That memory would not last. Nothing but Grayson could ever last.

"Alright, E, all done. This way." Grayson helped him step out of the boxers that were still trapped around his knees and slipped an arm around his waist, their sides pressed close together – the soft material of his sweatpants against Ethan's bare skin – to lead him down the hallway and into the spacious kitchen. Ethan didn't even bother to put his hands out to catch himself, knowing Grayson would never let him walk into anything.

"Down now," said Grayson, and hands on Ethan's shoulders guided him to his knees before it would have occurred to him to resist.

"I'm going to take this off," Grayson warned, untying the blindfold. Ethan almost protested – it was so safe, with his eyes covered, it was so quiet. But Grayson gently tugged it away as Ethan blinked, adjusting to the low light.

He was kneeling on a soft rug next to the dining room table.

Grayson had a bowl of what looked like fine-chopped kale salad, bright with red cranberries and croutons and grated parmesan cheese. (Synthetic cheese, though, because they don't fuck with dairy). Next to it was a baguette of crusty bread, cut into slices and slathered with organic, vegan butter. Ethan's eyes watered, knowing that sometime in the last week Grayson must have gone out and purchased these ingredients just for him. He'd probably gotten the recipe off of one of those vegan cooking blogs he loved so much.

"It's pretty good," said Grayson diffidently, watching Ethan's expression carefully. "I think. You wanna try some?"

"Okay," Ethan whispered. He was still embarrassed to be naked - Grayson could glance right down at him if he wanted to - but he was kind of hungry ...

Grayson selected one of the slices of bread and broke it in half, offering it up to Ethan.

Ethan tried to reach for it, but Grayson caught his hands and held them gently down. "No no, bro. I need to show you that I can take good care of my omega, right? Are you going to let me?"

Ethan tried halfheartedly to pull free, but Grayson didn't let him.

"Come on E, you know this will help," said Grayson patiently, holding the bite in front of Ethan's mouth.

"It isn't going to work, Gray," he said.

"So it won't hurt for you to try it. Please, E. Please eat. You'll like it. It's garlic butter."

Ethan rolled his eyes and gave in, delicately parting his teeth and accepting the bite that Grayson slipped between his lips. "That's it," said Grayson gently. "You like it?"

"It's fine," said Ethan, resolving to humor him to get this over with. No way he was being affected by the feeling of being nurtured and cared for. No way...

Grayson fed him the second bite and then followed with a kiss to his neck. Then another as Grayson pressed his warm mouth against him, sucking softly at his tender, sensitive skin, right at his pulse point. Ethan whined and tried to jerk away but Grayson kept him in place, sliding his fingers around his hip, lapping gently at his throat with his tongue, and then moved to rub his jaw against his own, scent marking him.

"Just breathe, E. It's okay," said Grayson, his voice full of honest affection that settled in Ethan's bones.

Ethan had heard Grayson call past girlfriends 'baby,' in the same tone of endearment he used 'E now. He was past the stage where he was going to protest the nickname, and he could even admit to himself now that he secretly loved it.

Grayson fed him the salad from his fingers, which seemed doomed to disaster even though he was very careful. Ethan initially thought this was an idea that hadn't been thought through very well but based on the chuckles as kale spilled down his naked chest, he eventually concluded that Grayson was enjoying the mess of it. Still, it was very good, with a tangy vinaigrette that stained Grayson's fingertips.

"You have to eat some too," said Ethan shrewdly, after accepting several bites.

Grayson rolled his eyes but didn't argue, using the fork to feed himself. Cheater.

"S'not so bad," he said, shrugging, "but I'd rather have a veggie burger on top of it."

He waited for Ethan to open up for the next forkful. Growing up, Ethan could remember so many years that Grayson loved to play around in the kitchen. He really was an amazing cook with years of practice under his belt.

They made it through the rest of the plate, with Grayson only teasing him once about "tossed salads." And by the end Ethan was expecting the fingers that touched his lips with every bite. He did love the taste of Grayson, smoky and warm.

"That's it," said Grayson, wiping Ethan's slick lips with his thumb when the last bite had been consumed. "All done."

He guided Ethan's head into his lap and stroked his hair; Ethan allowed Grayson's scent and touch to loosen his muscles. Ethan closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the rare moment of peace, void of worrying about YouTube and their business and the clout. Grayson gave him time to unwind, then patted his shoulder.

"Now I'd like to take another look at that little backside of yours, E. Will you let me?"

Ethan blinked at him in confusion. He was feeling warm and full and well cared for, and it made it hard to think straight. Somehow, he suspected that was exactly what Grayson had been going for.

"Come on, let's get you up on your feet," said Grayson. "Easy, Ethan, that's it. Up over the table."

"Gray, no," said Ethan, squirming as Grayson planted a hand in the middle of his back to guide him down. He didn't want anyone to look at him – there.

"Take it easy, E. I'm just going to take a look. Sh-sh-shh, no no, don't tense up."

Careful hands parted his buttocks as Ethan, panicked, tried to rear up.

"Okay, hold up." Grayson stripped off his own undershirt - soft grey cotton - and rubbed it deliberately under his arm pits, then without any embarrassment, down the front of his sweatpants, between his legs, over his cock and balls.

"What are you doing?" Ethan asked, pulling a face.

"I'm getting my scent on it." He caught Ethan easily, holding him steady with one hand behind his neck as Ethan tried to twist away, holding the fabric over his face, arranging it over his nose and mouth. Ethan garbled in resistance, but the scent of pheromones was already dragging him deeper. "That's it. Nice deep breaths," said Grayson, his grip implacable.

"Mmmmm, Gray," Ethan moaned. He could have picked his brother's Alpha scent out of a crowd of hundreds - spicy, like cinnamon, with an edge of musk, aggressive and masculine. Underneath that, something solid and trustworthy, like sun-warmed soil.

Ethan felt his panic receding, gulping in the grounding smell, letting himself revel in the animal pleasure of his closeness.

"Alright now, you just stay right like this. Hold this position for me."

God, his legs were spread apart so wide, and Grayson was holding his buttocks open, he was looking, looking at him right there. The place nobody had seen since...he didn't want to think about that.

And now Grayson was just – was just casually appraising him, as if it was nothing to be ashamed of, just another part of what he needed to do to make Ethan comfortable, to get him into heat. Like a skinned knee or a bumped head or a split lip. Any part of Ethan that needed attention was Grayson's purview.

"Tell me how this feels, E."

"... Okay," said Ethan shakily.

"Yeah?"

"Y-yes. Okay."

Grayson rubbed his free hand up and down Ethan's side. "That's good. Touch your nipples for me. Pinch them, that's it, that's right. Show me how you like them to be touched. Now, where do you feel good, baby. In your stomach?" His hand stroked over Ethan's taut belly, which was clenching with excitement, full of butterflies.

"Maybe," Ethan said.

"In your lips, maybe? Huh?"

Ethan's lips were tingling, come to think of it. He nodded slowly.

"I know this pretty dick is feeling it," said Grayson, skimming his finger down the line of Ethan's leaking, twitching cock. Ethan gasped and thrust up wildly, but Grayson took his hand away. Ethan groaned. He knew his omega genitals were small compared to an Alpha. But they were huge for an omega, more in line with a beta's equipment.

Of course he was a lot smaller than Grayson, who was on the upper end even for an Alpha. So many times Ethan had been guilty of watching Grayson reach unselfconsciously into his pants to adjust himself, or even dry himself off as he stepped out of the shower. He was comfortable in his body in a way that Ethan could only dream of.

"And these little balls, I can see you're feeling it there. That's good. But what about your backside, huh? Are you feeling it there too?"

Ethan whined. He didn't like to think about – back there. That wasn't anywhere he wanted to feel.

"Keep your legs open," Grayson reminded him, nudging a knee between Ethan's thighs to urge them further apart. "That's it, nice and wide. I'm just looking at your little hole, that's all. It's such a sweet little thing. Looks tight though, and dry. It doesn't look like you've been using it properly. Have you been neglecting yourself, E?"

It was true that Ethan had stopped masturbating that way. When he wanted relief, he worked his cock, like a beta.

"Tell me the truth." Grayson said deeply, huskily, whispering right in his ear.

"Yes, I've – I've neglected it." It was hard to think straight, knowing that Grayson had just called his hole sweet.

"I think you can do better than that in future. Can't you?"

"Y-yes."

"You need something up here, huh? So you're not so empty."

"No," said Ethan, "no, I don't- I'm not – I'm like that."

"Shh," said Gray. "It's me. I love you. It's just me, E. Trust me," he breathed softly, "I would never hurt you. Relax. Please."

Something brushed against Ethan's entrance. "Ah! Gray – "

He flinched away, whining, but Grayson rubbed his thigh. "Relax. Deep breath, that's it, that's it, E." It was Grayson's finger, rubbing around his hole. Ethan squirmed, feeling pathetic – but Grayson shushed him, and he held still. "Good, good," he whispered. "I'm just going to check how you're doing here. Stay nice and still."

Ethan gritted his teeth as Grayson's fingers slipped down his crack, easily finding his hole and dipping one large, long finger inside. Ethan let out a strangled noise as arousal pooled deep in his belly at the sensation.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," Ethan swallowed, his nerves buzzing after a moment.

Grayson stroked his back, long warm passes. Ethan pressed back into the touch in spite of himself. "You're okay. I've got you. It's just you and me, E," he said, still in that calm tone. "Your body already knows what to do. You just have to relax and let it happen, that's all. I'm not hurting you. No one's ever going to hurt you again. If they tried, I'd rip their fucking head off. You hear me? I'd kill 'em."

Ethan let out a soft sound at the feeling of Grayson's finger hooking inside him pleasurably.

"Yes," Ethan breathed, feeling warmth spread through him at Grayson's voice at his ear, a deep, soothing rumble.

"I'm just trying to see if we can loosen you up back here. You're going to feel a lot better if we can. Does that sound okay, baby? Huh?"

"Oh!" gasped Ethan. Grayson's fingertip was rubbing lovingly over that sensitive spot inside him. "Oh Grayson, Ah. Right there."

Ethan could hear his own pathetic whimpers breaking through despite his best efforts. His eyes filled up with tears. He tried uselessly to blink them away. It felt so good. So good it hurt.

"Shh, E," he whispered. "Don't be scared of me, E. It's only me. Nobody else. It's Gray. I only want you to feel better."

Ethan knew this to be true and it calmed him down.

He could feel his hole clamping down around Grayson's finger, clenching and relaxing at the unfamiliar pressure, swallowing it down hungrily. Ethan was so aroused that he let out a low whine, an omega sound, high pitched and soft. It was the kind of noise he'd sworn he would never make the moment he realized he was an omega and not an Alpha like Gray was. Grayson shushed him easily, rubbing his back, instinctively primed to provide the comfort that Ethan required. He began moving his finger gently in little circles.

"Mmmmn." Ethan was sucking and chewing on his own lips, trying to keep in the needy sounds he wanted to make as his brother firmly examined his insides, feeling around carefully like Ethan was an engine that was rattling.

"Does that feel good?"

"M-maybe," whispered Ethan. "I don't - I don't know."

Most omegas were plugged during the day, but Ethan would never let someone do that to him. Now he thought about Grayson pressing something up inside him, walking around knowing it was in there all the time, and shivered. It would be like – always having his touch, every minute. He was man enough to admit that there was something appealing about that.

"Well, your little hole knows," said Grayson, gently extracting the fingers while Ethan gasped and clenched around the newly empty space. "See?"

He held up his hand. The fingers were glistening with something sticky and clear.

Ethan flushed all over. He was making slick.

"It's working," said Grayson, reaching for a tissue. He sounded so relieved and even proud.

Ethan liked to hear the praise and approval in Grayson's voice. He felt - kind of dazed, and kind of sleepy. He realized he was shivering, trying to scoot inconspicuously back into Grayson, who felt like a furnace behind him. An Alpha ran hot compared to an Omega anyway, and pre-heat only magnified the effects.

Callused hands landed on his hips and tugged him back into the cradle of Grayson's legs. "You're breaking out in goosebumps, E. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Ethan heard himself whine again, high pitched and frantic, and Grayson must have known instinctively what to do, because he turned him around - hand curled possessively over the crown of Ethan's skull – and coaxed his face into the sweet curve of Grayson's neck, where it was dark and safe.

"That's it. It's okay, E. It's okay." Grayson started rubbing his scalp, strong fingers working through his hair. Ethan didn't bother trying to keep back his happy moans, pushing up into the touch. He could feel Grayson's smile against his temple, right before a quick kiss was pressed there. Ethan squirmed with mingled pleasure and embarrassment, his inner omega enjoying the affection. Most omegas loved to be touched, but Ethan had mostly denied himself since the incident. Grayson had respected his wishes and kept his distance for awhile, until Ethan had invited him to cuddle him about two years after their tour. Just now Ethan was feeling like an idiot for depriving them both this comfort all the time. Why? All he wanted was to be close to this warmth, to his Grayson.

He knew Grayson was loving it too. Alphas were more settled when they had an omega to dote on. Ethan knew a lot of Grayson's jangly restlessness came from the sad state of their relationship. He would have matured emotionally and gained confidence if he had mated with someone else ... but Grayson refused to date. He made every excuse in the book to be around Ethan, their YouTube and business careers only being one of them.

Grayson sniffed him deeply, holding Ethan's head to one side. "Can you feel that, E?" he asked, sounding awed.

"I'm in heat," said Ethan, wincing at a painful cramp that sparked in his abdomen.

The familiar feeling of his mating cycle - the knowledge that he wasn't broken, that his body could still function the way it was supposed to, after everything that had happened - was overwhelming. Ethan buried his face in Grayson's shoulder and began to sob. Deep, full-body sobs of mingled relief and grief that he would blame on hormones gone haywire.

Grayson just held on tight, rubbing his back, his other hand stroking Ethan's hair in silence. As Ethan wound down he was aware that Grayson was swaying them slowly from side to side. Ethan was positive he remembered the gesture from his childhood. The tears felt healing, like the draining of a wound.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"S'okay," Grayson whispered. "It's been a while, I get it."

"M'tired," Ethan slurred, slumping forward. He made a face at the churning in his guts as his reproductive organs reawakened. Grayson's warm hand slid down to rub over his belly in slow, soothing circles and it felt so good that Ethan whimpered softly. He should be stronger than this, he knew, but his omega side wanted to be taken care of just now, and he wasn't strong enough to fight against it. Especially with Grayson's contented alpha scent, warm and woodsy, under his nose. He could smell how happy Grayson was. Hadn't Grayson always wanted to look after E, in every possible way?

Take care of your omega brother, that's what Grayson had heard every day of his life growing up.

Now Grayson was smoothing warm hands over Ethan's back, occasionally nuzzling his nose over Ethan's temple, taking in deep breaths of his heat scent. He knew that he smelled sweet, that's what Grayson told him when he first went into heat, like oranges and almonds, although he couldn't really detect it himself. All he could smell at the moment was Grayson's adoring attention. He nuzzled into Grayson's shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," Grayson murmered. "You feeling good now?"

"Mm hmm," Ethan replied.

"Gonna take care of you, if you'll let me." Grayson sounded like he was half demanding and half begging.

"Make sure you stay nice and warm, and keep hydrated, and don't get hungry. Can I, E?"

"Want you to," said Ethan, blinking back more tears. "Want you to stay with me. Mm sorry, Gray, I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't want you around. I've always needed you. You're my twin."

"Hey hey hey, shh, you don't need to get upset," said Grayson, snugging Ethan impossibly tighter. He couldn't stop nuzzling into Grayson's jaw, his fingers clutched tightly around Grayson's wide, strong shoulders, "It's alright, baby, I know - I know how hard it's been on you."

Ethan could feel it now, the nagging itch starting in his backside, coming from his sore, swollen hole. He closed his eyes at the familiar lightheaded, swirly feeling. It had been a long time since he'd experienced it. He knew he'd lose his inhibitions, become clingy and dependent, want Grayson's reassurance - his words, yes, and his touch, his scent, his dick and his knot.

He whined again, uncertain, but Grayson was already moving to comfort him, sliding his bare wrist under Ethan's nose and letting him sniff it. Ethan couldn't resist giving it a lick, just wanting a little more, the taste of the pheromones popping on his tongue. He kissed the skin, then latched on and sucked, while Grayson stroked his hair. "That's it, E. It's okay."

Grayson tugged him back down into his neck, where Ethan sniffed eagerly, then licked and then kissed the skin. Finally, he opened his mouth and sucked on that warm skin, biting gently. He wanted more of Grayson than just his throat; he wanted his fingers, his tongue, his member deep within him. He wanted to be knotted, made full with Grayson's warmth, bitten and claimed.

"Grayson ... you know there's nobody else in the world I could even imagine spending my heat with, right? You're the only one that – " he swallowed – "that I would want to take care of me."

Grayson's dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. He reached out to cradle Ethan's face in his hand, thumb rubbing over Ethan's cheekbone. "Ethan. I know you're a big ball of hormones and everything's confusing, E. But I'm not doing to do that. How about we get you tucked into bed with a heat pack and a vibrator, and we'll talk about this in a few days?"

Ethan's heartbeat stuttered. "You don't want me?" His voice cracked.

"Hey, hey, hey, of course I do, E, I never wanted anybody else," Grayson was quickly reassuring an upset Ethan, "But you can't make a decision like this right now. You can't give proper consent. You're going to wake up in a week and realize you don't want a second-rate Alpha like me. I'm not exactly the cream of the crop."

"Don't ever want anyone but you," said Ethan, straining to concentrate. "We don't have to mate right now, we can wait if it will make you feel better, but - you're the one who induced my heat because my body knows you're the one I want to be with. And I'd really like it if - if you didn't leave me right now while I'm – " he waved a hand self-deprecatingly – "while I'm like this. You don't have to fuck me, but can you - can you hold me, at least? Or stay nearby? I don't - I don't want to be alone."

Ethan knew he was about two seconds from crying again. He'd forgotten how emotional he became under the influence of his cycle. But it felt good, too, like he could finally be honest with Grayson about the way that he felt. He loved Grayson, and he wanted them to be mates for the rest of their lives. It seemed completely obvious now, like he'd denied it for as long as he could and suddenly he couldn't pretend anymore. Grayson was his mate. Grayson had always been his mate and would always be the only one he'd ever want.

Grayson was - Grayson was rocking him again, shushing him, his hand combing through Ethan's sweaty hair. Ethan was aware that he must be such a mess, shaking and wild-eyed, clinging to Grayson like an oversized koala bear.

But Grayson was steady and sure, his eyes on Ethan's face, still stroking soothingly over his cheek. Grayson looked like he was trying not to smile, or maybe he was close to breaking into tears himself. He leaned forward to press a dry, gentle kiss to Ethan's lips. It was over way too quickly and he didn't let Ethan deepen it. "Of course," he whispered. "Now - how about that backrub."

"I want the heat pack too," said Ethan. "And ... maybe that other thing." But mostly he wanted Grayson's arms around him, their scent filling up his bed, their bodies curled up close together. And when the heat was over, he'd convince Grayson that this wasn't a one-time thing.

This time next year they'd be spending Ethan's heat together, as mates. And every year after that.

Grayson kissed his head and nodded, his arm still an anchor around his waist. "Whatever you want, E," he said. "We've got all the time in the world."


	11. Bad Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ethan’s sick and being stubborn overworking himself and Gray takes care of him.
> 
> Dedicated to a very kind Guest who requested it. Thank you so much, darling, and I hope you enjoy it. ♥

11.

Ethan & Grayson, 20

\---

Ethan worked too damn hard.

Like, seriously.

Grayson worked hard too, sure, but not as hard as Ethan seemed to. He was a workaholic; he'd become a total work addict, especially after quarantine ended.

It was like "break" wasn't even in his vocabulary. Break? What break? No, not for Ethan Dolan. He acted like he'd never heard of it.

Grayson was the first one to vouch for him in that aspect; while he was working out or building something out of the sheer fact it brought some sort of therapy for his psyche, Ethan was at meetings, grocery shopping, was setting up the cameras, was cleaning up around the house, was gardening (yes, gardening, he'd gone that far). He was always on the go, as though he reveled in the fact that with work came that sweet, sweet ideology that one may call "distraction" and through that distraction, Ethan didn't have to think about all the little things in life that set his teeth on edge. Like dairy and slaughterhouses and social media and clout.

So why wonder he got sick? One can't keep going on forever. He wasn't a machine, after all, although some people on social media treated him as such: no feelings, no blood pumping through his veins, no humanity. He was an image to them. But that's another story altogether.

Ever since Grayson was a kid, he knew the signs of what was about to be a very sick E. He called them "Bad Signs" respectfully.

There were always three distinct Bad Signs that led to Ethan getting incredibly, bed-ridden-for-days sick.

The first Bad Sign was sleepiness.

By itself, it didn't really sound that bad, but a break in Ethan's strict schedule could only mean bad news. When Grayson had finally gotten up after hitting snooze on his own alarm five times, Ethan was still curled up under loads of blankets on his bed, mouth open as he drooled on the pillow. Ethan was usually one of those people who always tried to salvage his "sleep cycle" when they weren't being fucked over by editing and meetings— he always got up at the same time, without fail. At around six in the morning, no snoozes.

Ethan used to be the one to sleep in, but not anymore. He'd grown up a lot in the last couple years (despite what social media likes to say).

"Ethan," Grayson rumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing his eyes with the bases of his palms, "it's like, eight. Get up."

Ethan mumbled something in protest, using his nose to try to dig his face further into the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing the blankets up over his head.

Grayson's mental twin alarm bells were already ringing, but he decided to give this one the benefit of the doubt— maybe Ethan wasn't sick, right? Maybe he just had too much diet root beer at that weird southern-themed diner last night. Grayson stood up, arching and cracking his back, before incessantly shaking Ethan by the shoulder. "Ethan. Ethan. E. Ethan. C'mon. Get up."

Ethan blinked blearily up at him, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. It was one of his many (underrated and rarely displayed) talents.

"I'm up," he croaked miserably, blinking some more. "I'm up, I swear."

"Good. I'm gonna go on a coffee run— the usual for you?"

Ethan didn't respond immediately, so Grayson lightly swatted him with his hand onto his thigh, ending up getting half an ass cheek instead. "Th'usuaaal," Ethan slurred, "Don't hit me."

"Are you gonna actually be out of bed by the time I get back?" Grayson asked, raising an eyebrow and staring down at the huddled form of Ethan in the bed. Ethan nodded, eyes still closed, mumbling something that sounded like "yeah, definitely" before he curled his arms up beneath the pillow, clawing at the fabric.

"Yeah. Right," Grayson muttered to himself, gently closing the door behind him and grabbing his wallet and keys in the entryway before heading out the door.

When he came back, two steaming cups in hand, Ethan was still asleep.

But they had two business meetings today, a YouTube video to film, and a podcast to record!

Grayson frowned as he looked down at his brother, setting the cups on the side table. It looked like none of those things were going to get done today, after all.

By noon there came the second Bad Sign.

The second Bad Sign was a childlike grabbiness, which wasn't all that bad, really, unless sign number one had already passed.

It was around lunch time, now, and Ethan was still in bed, only the tips of his fingers, the phone he was clutching, and a little puff of black hair visible over the pure white comforter. From the doorway Grayson heard a muffled thunk and saw that Ethan had dropped his phone to the floor. 

"E?" He asked, softly, sweaty from the workout he'd performed in the backyard due to Ethan's absence.

Nothing.

He watched as Ethan's eyes had fluttered shut again, like he hadn't heard him at all. Concern ramping slowly but steadily increasing, he moved across the room, peering down at him and placing a hand softly on his forehead.

Dammit! He had a fever. He was practically burning up beneath Grayson's palm.

They really didn't need this, especially not now, on a Tuesday in which a podcast really needed to be recorded and a video really needed to be filmed. Grayson swore, and Ethan nuzzled his forehead further into Grayson's hand, making a little whiney noise and hooking one of his fingers into the material of Grayson's (quite sweaty, quite gross) workout shirt almost unconsciously, like it was a blind instinct. Grayson could almost physically feel his heart soften as he looked down at his twin, whose brow was all scrunched up because apparently, he needed cuddles.

"I'll be right back, 'kay?" Grayson said, moving his hand to Ethan's hair and swiping it back behind his ear. Since after quarantine ended and Ethan had decided he wanted to over exhaust himself with work all the time, they hadn't been as close as Grayson wanted, which hurt, but Grayson was beginning to think it was just the natural progression of things. They were getting older. Ethan needed to find his way in the world just as much as Gray was working on himself physically and more importantly, mentally.

But, he could indulge in a little Ethan coddling now. Why not? It didn't matter that he was desperately craving it— Ethan was sick, right? That's what you do when the person you love the most in the world gets sick, dammit. You have every right to coddle them.

Grayson unhooked Ethan from him and made his way to the bathroom, reaching up and opening the cabinet above the toilet. He got the portable med kit out from the main pouch near the back of the storage compartment and found the thermometer, pressing a few buttons and turning it on.

He sat down on Ethan's bedside, and Ethan almost instinctively shuffled a bit closer, yawning and opening his eyes as his knees hit the base of Grayson's back. "I know it's cold, but keep still," Grayson ordered, watching Ethan's sleep-addled eyes narrow in suspicion as he pressed the thermometer into Ethan's ear. He waited for the thermometer to get a reading, and when it finally beeped, he was surprised to see his hand cupping the back of Ethan's head and Ethan's little smile of pleasure.

"This is ridiculous," Grayson said to himself, embarrassed, and looked down at the little reader.

102.6.

Shit. Grayson sighed, putting everything back in the first aid kit before hopping up onto the bed beside Ethan and turning on his TV.

"Looks like we're staying in today, E," he said to his twin, who gave no reaction, eyes still shut. Grayson settled in for the long haul, making a mental list of various sicknesses Ethan could've caught, and the corresponding medicines he'd have to buy.

By this point, Grayson was certain Ethan was sick, but the third Bad Sign only confirmed his fears.

The third Bad Sign was Ethan's silence.

When Ethan was sick, he went silent. And it wasn't a silence that Grayson liked. He wanted Ethan to annoy him, call him names. At least he felt good when he did that.

A couple minutes after Grayson turned on the TV, Ethan was finally awake, and miserable, at that. He kept sniffling and coughing, rubbing at his temples and raising his head to blink slowly at the room every half hour or so, like he needed to check it was still there. He only talked in the tiniest of whispers when Grayson asked a direct question, otherwise remaining tightly curled in bed and silent.

"Okay," Grayson declared when Ethan curled into his side, looking up at him like a baby deer in the middle of a winter storm might look up at his mom, eyes big, a little pleading, plenty sick, and plenty sad.

"I'm up," he moved to push the covers over and onto Ethan. "I'm gonna get you some stuff. Stay here."

Ethan looked at him like Where else am I gonna go? and proceeded to sneeze.

Grayson bought every over-the-counter flu/cold/sore throat/animal-vegetable-mineral in the little CVS on the corner three miles from their house, also buying Ethan his favorite stupid candies and some Ibuprofen. When he crossed the threshold to his room, Ethan's eyes were on him, blood shot and watery and afraid, but tenfold times more relieved.

"I just had to go get you some stuff," Grayson explained, setting the bag on the nightstand. Ethan's eyes were absolutely fucking breaking him down. "I wasn't going to leave you. Man, E, I told you I was going to leave. Were you 'all there' when I told you?" he added on, and Ethan nodded slowly, blushing slightly. He turned away from Grayson and burrowed back under the covers, sniffling once.

"Jesus," Grayson muttered under his breath, grabbing one of the flu medication bottles, some ibuprofen, and shuffling into the kitchen and filling a glass with water. Coming back, he set them on the nightstand, grabbing the sheets from his bed and carefully spreading them over Ethan. He perched on Ethan's bed again, putting a hand softly on Ethan's shoulder. "E," he whispered, encouraged when Ethan opened his eyes. "E, you have to take some stuff, okay? Then you can go back to sleep. Okay?"

Ethan sighed, shivering and perching up on his elbows. "Okay," he whispered, rubbing at his eyes. He was pale and shiny with sweat, his hairline glistening and his hair messy. The tips of his ears and his nose were pink and his eyes were red. Grayson just wanted to climb in after him, gathering him up in his arms, but he didn't want to encroach on his space, at least without Ethan's explicit permission. Weren't they too old for cuddling?

Clearing his throat past that thought, he helped Ethan sit all the way up, putting a mass of pillows behind his back to keep him upright. He swept a hand through Ethan's hair to make it less messy then sat down next to him, thigh to thigh. He handed Ethan the tiny cup of flu medicine. "It said strawberry flavored, but I think we both know not to bet on that."

Ethan huffed under his breath but reached a hand out for it. Grayson gave him the cup, hovering as he watched Ethan swallow it down with a scrunched-up face of disgust. He'd feed it to Ethan himself if Ethan got too sick, but it looked like they weren't that bad yet.

"You work too much, E," Grayson said. "That's why you got sick. Bro, you need to just chill."

"Shut up, Gray," he replied, his voice void of heat but clipped with exhaustion. Finally, he finished the flu medicine.

"Next one, lemme get it over with," Ethan croaked, coughing a few times. Grayson handed him three Ibuprofen and the water and Ethan swallowed them down before sliding back down in bed, his head on Grayson's lap. He closed his eyes, one of his hands curled up against his face.

Grayson froze, unsure of what to do. Ethan shuffled a bit and then made one of those sleep-sighs Grayson knew so well. He'd have to be a terrible person to move now— he'd wake Ethan up.

Also, though he wouldn't dare admit it, he was so fucking glad Ethan had reached out like that, because he was afraid neither of them would try. He put a hand on Ethan's head, his fingers pulling Ethan's hair out of his face and behind his ear. Ethan looked so peaceful, even sickly like this. His eyelashes stood out against his cheeks and his hair felt so soft, like silk and down feathers. Grayson couldn't stop the giant surge of affection that rose inside him, and he stroked Ethan's face, smiling down at his brother.

He reached back and shifted his pillow carefully behind him, trying not to stir Ethan. He tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, a hand entwined in Ethan's hair as he fell asleep.

When he checked Ethan's temperature in the morning, it was 103.5.

"E," he called, sitting on Ethan's bed minutes later. "E, wake up. I want you to move to my bed."

Ethan perked up a little at those words, opening his eyes and looking up at Grayson in confusion.

"My room is cooler, you know that."

Ethan stared at him for a few beats, a mixture of displeasure and something else, before he nodded, pushing his sheets off of himself with a shaking hand.

"Shh, lemme help you, bro," Grayson cooed, leaning over Ethan and helping him stand. Ethan didn't resist the motion, feeling too ill to argue against Grayson playing protective mama bear.

Ethan nodded, leaning heavily against Grayson, his hair brushing Grayson's jaw. He was burning and shaking, but upright. Together, they walked out to hall, and Grayson helped Ethan into his bed, spreading all the blankets he had over Ethan and stealing a pillow near the top to put behind his head.

With everything all set, and more flu medicine in Ethan's stomach, Grayson curled up beside him and watched as Ethan dozed off once again.

But, it turned out, Ethan was worse off than he'd thought.

When the morning hours bled into the early afternoon, Ethan began to stir, making little panicked noises. Small sounds, hard words, and Grayson knew he was having a kind of fever induced night terror, just like he had when they were kids that one time when they went over to the neighbors for a sleepover.

"Gray," Ethan mumbled under his breath in his half-conscious state, his head moving sluggishly side to side, his eyes tightly closed, his forehead shiny with sweat, his hair sticking to his hot, overly sensitive skin. He gasped, his face screwing up in a hidden kind of pain, an internal one. Mental.

"No, I-it's not my fault. It's just acne. I'm n-not ugly..." he mumbled, the pained sound catching in his throat.

And Grayson couldn't stay away from him anymore, having broken the foot distance between them on the bed. Wrapping his arms around him as tightly as possible and planting a kiss to the top of Ethan's head, Grayson let himself just breathe in the scent of his brother. Ethan had sniffled again, gasping for breath, pressing his nose into the spot where Grayson's neck met his ear, shaking and shuddering.

Grayson rubbed his hands up and down Ethan's back, telling him he wasn't ugly, how he needed to wake up so he could tell him how amazing he was, that he was going to fucking get better, dammit, or Grayson was going to kick everyone's ass who said that to him, no matter if they were some thirteen year old over the internet. Ethan was a beautiful person, would always be, was human just like everyone else, and got ache just like everyone else. There was nothing wrong with him.

But his brother was already settling down, calmed down by the subconscious feeling of Grayson pressed against him, a feeling he'd experience even before birth, in the dark quiet of the womb.

Ethan quieted, but Grayson kept him securely in his arms, falling asleep with thoughts of Ethan in his mind and the smell of Ethan all around him.

Neither one of them complained about the coddling, and both of them knew the other had been starved for it and wanted to be held. Really held. Without the worry of having to be anywhere, do anything. It took Ethan days to get better, a slow crawl, leaving Grayson crawling up the walls and 911 almost dialed a thousand times. They stayed together 24/7, watching crappy movies and eating crappy food.

They didn't talk about the videos that needed to be filmed or the podcasts that needed to be recorded or the meetings that needed to be attended. It was just Ethan and Grayson hauled up in Grayson's room, Ethan slowly getting better thanks to his brother's constant reassurances and care.

When Ethan's fever was finally gone and he started talking more, his voice strong, Grayson kept him in his bed for two more days, just to be safe. Just to keep feeling Ethan before Ethan got all crazy again, obsessed with working, obsessed with that sweet, sweet distraction.

On the morning of the third day, Grayson slowly woke to a light pressure on his face. He opened his eyes, curious, and found the pads of Ethan's fingers on his cheeks, tracing patterns in his skin, right across his cheekbones. Ethan's eyes were wet and soft, and his expression was so fucking raw, and he stared back at Grayson fearlessly, not removing his fingers.

"I almost wish I had the flu again to keep this going," he whispered, his fingers bumping across Grayson's nose before he removed them.

Grayson's heart was catching in his throat with all his fucking oxygen, and he blinked away moisture, nodding.

"What if we could keep doing this even when you're not sick, and neither of us holds back or acts fucking stupid like we have been. Deal?"

Ethan smiled, his bottom lip wobbling. "Deal."

Grayson smiled back, just as tenderly, even though he was nervous as hell. "Good," he said, "because if you said no deal, I was going to fucking wonder what the hell you've—"

Grayson's sentence was interrupted by Ethan's lips on his, gentle but confident, and it wasn't an accident, and they weren't going anywhere. Grayson put a hand on Ethan's forearm, pushing with a little force, and Ethan pulled back, watching his expression with those dark brown eyes of his.

"You don't know what you're doing," Grayson told him quietly before Ethan could say anything.

"I'm not sick anymore, Gray."

"My point still stands." Grayson shook his head. "This isn't— we're not—"

"Do you want this?" Ethan asked him, linking their fingers between them. "Answer me, bro. You want this. You and me?"

"E," Grayson whispered, like worship, and shook his head again looking away. "E—"

"I think I got my answer." Ethan was smiling at him kindly, like he accepted what was between them, like they were okay. Grayson wasn't as sure.

Grayson's heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched Ethan lean forward again and close his eyes, and this time he kissed Ethan back, his hand still on Ethan's forearm, just feeling him.

Ethan's lips were very soft and very easy to urge apart with his own. He kissed Ethan progressively deeper, licking into his mouth, and Ethan didn't stop him, letting out little breathy moans as his hands wandered all over Grayson's body.

After awhile, they pulled apart, staring at each other with some new understanding, some other place inside them unlocked and unburdened. Grayson ran his hand up and down Ethan's arm and smiled over at his brother.

"I think I have some room on my shelves for your stuff. And I'm only using the top half of the dresser, so."

"Why are you only using the top half?" Ethan smiled back.

"Uh, you know." Grayson cleared his throat. "For uh, you know, my twin and stuff. I kind of wanted him to stay in my room since the remodeling. I missed him sleeping next to me. Don't tell him, though. I don't know how he'd react."

"You sleepy fuck," Ethan said, still grinning, dimples out. He kissed Grayson again lightly. "I'd like to move into your room with you, if that's what you're asking."

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to share a room with you, we've only just met," Grayson gasped dramatically, blinking at Ethan. "Though you do kiss like a pro as it turns out."

"You're the one who taught me, remember?"

"Ah." Grayson traced Ethan's jawline gently. "That's definitely why." He kissed Ethan again, just for the hell of it, feeling Ethan's smile underneath his lips.

"Shut up, you egotistical asshole." Ethan laughed.

"Mmm," Grayson muttered, utterly content, and kissed Ethan again, tilting his face with his hand and lapping into his mouth, enjoying the feel of it. "Dick."


	12. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Ethan and Grayson own a family business and therefore are considered business partners. They travel all around the country and even outside the United States in order to attend meetings, promote their business, ect. Because of this, they’re in a lot of hotel rooms. The rooms are fine and dandy and all but something is a bit off. Why is it that at every hotel they have been to in the last two months they only have a double bed available? Well, Grayson is just about to find out.

12.

Ethan & Grayson, 24  
\---

"Ethan, there's only one bed."

It was all that Grayson could think to say as he opened the door to his and Ethan's latest hotel room and he surveyed the double bed, positioned right in the middle of the pleasant-looking, sumptuous room.

He heard Ethan sigh behind him. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," his brother grumbled sarcastically. "The desk clerk said that this was the only room they had left," he continued, sounding annoyed. "What's the big deal, man?"

Grayson glared at Ethan as he pushed past him to get into the room. He knew that his twin kind of had a point, though, when he put it like that, because Ethan could see with his own eyes that there was one bed in the room, the way he always could whenever they ended up in hotel rooms with only one bed, and it was pretty plausible that there wouldn't be any rooms left with two queen-sized beds, especially when they had arrived late at the hotel, being tourist season and all.

Tourist season+delayed flight=one bed.

It was just that the there-was-only-one-bed explanation seemed to have been given a lot lately, at almost every hotel. And the beds seemed to have got progressively smaller every single time.

"What I mean is," Grayson continued, feeling like he had to explain himself further, so that he didn't look like an idiot, "there was only one bed in the last hotel room, and the room before that...and the one before that, I think."

"So?" Ethan asked him gruffly, and Grayson could tell that there was something a little...off in Ethan's voice. It sounded like he was irritated, or like he was maybe getting defensive.

"So...nothing, bro" Grayson replied quickly, already feeling like he had unintentionally said the wrong thing, or that he had said something to annoy Ethan. "I just think it's a little weird, that the hotels don't seem to have two queen-sized beds anymore..."

"I can sleep on the floor," Ethan cut in, his words sounding rushed and kind of sharp.

"No, E." Grayson answered quickly, wanting to put a stop to that suggestion before Ethan got any not-so-good ideas.

Grayson instantly remembered the time when they had first started accidentally cuddling, back before Ethan had silently acknowledged the fact that he liked it, back when his brother had made a point of trying to sleep on the floor while they traveled for business as much as he could to avoid any cuddles in the night, with Grayson lying awake in the bed the whole time, feeling miserable and neglected with Ethan pointedly curled up on the floor below him, stubbornly refusing to get up.

"Come on, bro," Grayson groaned, running a hand through his hair and peeking off the side of the bed. "Get your fat ass in here."

"No." Came Ethan's blatant reply.

"C'mon, E. Fuck, bro, I promise I won't touch you."

"The bed isn't big enough, is it?" Was all Ethan had said in that sharp sarcastic tone of his and then he fell quiet and Grayson fell quiet and it was all a little awkward until eventually either one or the other fell asleep and that was that for the night.

As those memories played in his mind, Grayson started to feel kind of stupid that he'd even said anything, because he really didn't want to go back to the Ethan-sleeping-on-the-floor-days, and it wasn't like he was complaining about the double bed; it was actually kind of the exact opposite.

Ever since that night when Ethan came back to their hotel room and asked Grayson hesitantly if he had any room in his bed, and the two of them had silently agreed that they were both okay with the cuddling, the nuzzling and the spooning, the bed cuddles had happened more and more often, with neither of them having to talk about it or plan it, and Ethan rarely protested or pushed Grayson away now.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Grayson finally felt like he was getting a good night's sleep most nights, because he felt almost like a kid again, void of all the responsibility that came with being an adult who literally had to travel about and do business deals for a living, enjoying the comfort and protection from his brother, and all of the nights when they checked into hotel rooms with one bed only served to make the cuddling so much easier. Even if neither of them were in the mood for sleeping really close to one another, Grayson knew that he would still have the added bonus of his twin sleeping close enough to him in a king-sized bed that he could continue to feel the same sense of comfort and fall asleep to the sound of Ethan's breathing.

It was never really the same now, when they were sleeping in separate beds-or worse, if Ethan was sleeping on the floor.

"No," Grayson repeated, for emphasis, while also trying to stop sounding like a little kid throwing a tantrum. "Ethan, it's fine, I never said it was a problem..."

Ethan shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed, but Grayson could still tell that Ethan was feeling tense, and he knew that he'd just gone and made a big deal out of something that they never felt like they had to talk about; something that Grayson always treated as a casual, unimportant thing, so that his brother didn't suddenly decide to freak out.

He also couldn't help feeling like there was something that Ethan wasn't telling him about the double bed situation.

Grayson sighed to himself as he changed into his pajamas. He had a bad feeling that there wouldn't be any cuddling in their latest double bed.

That night, Grayson still felt like something wasn't right with Ethan. He sensed that his brother was being moody with him, and that there was some sort of weird tension between the two of them. Ethan seemed determined to keep to his side of the bed, meaning that he was sleeping right on the edge of the mattress, and putting as much distance as possible between them, much to Grayson's disappointment. Ethan's breathing also seemed quick and agitated, and as far as Grayson could tell, it took him a while to fall asleep.

Even after Ethan fell asleep, Grayson lay awake for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling, unable to relax with all of the thoughts going around in his head, and-if he were being honest-without the feeling of Ethan's body pressed up next to him, without the comforting sensation of resting his head on Ethan's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Ethan's waist, feeling Ethan's hands running soothingly through his hair.

After a little while, Grayson blinked rapidly in sudden realization. He could practically see a light bulb switching on above his head, the way it did with the characters in the cartoons that he used to watch with Ethan when they were kids, when the characters suddenly had a bright idea, or a moment of clarity.

Ethan had deliberately been asking for rooms with only one bed at every hotel recently. It seemed so obvious, when he thought about it. Grayson couldn't explain how exactly he knew this for sure, and he knew that he would have no solid proof if he ever accused Ethan of this in an argument, but he just knew that this is what had been happening, especially when he thought about how unlikely it was that every single hotel for weeks on end would only have one room left with one double bed every night, and also when he thought about how awkward and embarrassed (and maybe even hurt) Ethan had looked when Grayson pointed out the fact that they seemed to end up sleeping in a double bed at every hotel.

Grayson then started thinking about why Ethan might be requesting rooms with only one bed.

Maybe Ethan had been trying to take the next step by ensuring that they were already in the same bed most nights, so that the cuddling could just sort of happen naturally without the weird sneaking around from bed to bed on the nights when they both wanted the close contact, or the awkward questions about whether one of them was cold or needed warming up, or-one of Ethan's favourite questions-asking Grayson if he'd been having nightmares again and wanted some company or comfort.

Grayson already knew that Ethan liked cuddling with him, but he was also well aware of the fact that Ethan would never say this directly out loud (not if he didn't have to, anyway), and it wasn't like the situation would ever be perfect, because Ethan was always going to be Ethan when it came to things like this, and there would always be an underlying sense of tension when it came to any of the 'touchy-feely crap', and Grayson decided that maybe this gesture was Ethan's way of reassuring Grayson without words that he really did like it, that he was okay with the physical contact, and that he wanted to cuddle more often.

And when Grayson pointed out earlier that he had noticed that something didn't add up about them ending up in rooms with one bed every night, actually using the word 'weird' to describe it, and maybe even sounding confused or exasperated when he did so, it probably sent out a message to Ethan that he was uncomfortable with so much bed-sharing, that he didn't approve of the increase in the nights spent cuddling, or worse, that he was growing tired of the cuddling now and wanted to put some distance between the two of them again.

And, Ethan being Ethan, that would have been all it took to make him feel rejected or embarrassed and instantly put the barriers back up, slowly starting to back off.

Grayson fell asleep with his hands covering his eyes in frustration, feeling like an even bigger idiot.

\----

Grayson really wanted to talk about last night's realization with Ethan, but Ethan was up early the next morning, still looking like he was irritable and on edge, and Grayson knew that the discussion would be awkward enough, without having to deal with a tense Ethan at the same time; and then he was talking about one business meeting or another in the city, and all thoughts of cuddling temporarily vanished from Grayson's mind as he went into business-mode and he focused fully on their latest job.

It was only when they headed to a new hotel room the next week (both of them feeling exhausted after a hard week of business deals) just after Ethan went to check in, that Grayson started to worry about the situation again.

He felt the familiar feeling of anxiety as he worried that Ethan hadn't asked for one bed in the room this time, especially after last week when there had been all the tension between them and they had slept on separate sides of the bed, and, unfortunately, Grayson's worst fears were confirmed when Ethan opened the door to the room and Grayson noticed that there were two beds, with the gap between them looking huge, given the current situation.

Grayson had to suppress a sigh of disappointment as he walked into the room and threw his stuff onto his bed.

He really thought that he and Ethan had made progress over the past few months since they first agreed that they liked cuddling; now, as he looked from bed to bed, it felt like they had taken so many steps back that they were right back at the beginning again.

Grayson was quiet for most of the evening, refusing to answer a lot of Ethan's questions, and probably looking a lot like he was sulking, which was maybe kind of true. Things were made worse by the fact that Ethan looked like he was kind of mad too, and he'd already been agitated and snappy with Grayson through most of the week.

Eventually, Grayson gave in and mumbled something about an early night as he quietly got into his bed.

He already knew though that he wouldn't get much sleep. It was almost scary, he realized, just how much he had come to depend on the physical contact with Ethan in such a short space of time. He wasn't sure that he would be able to cope without it now.

A few hours later, Grayson was still wide awake. He lay on his side and watched as Ethan tossed and turned in his bed on the other side of the room, looking like he couldn't get to sleep either.

Grayson started to feel confused about what was going on; he couldn't work out if Ethan had deliberately asked for a room with two beds because he was mad at Grayson and he therefore wanted to hurt him in return, making this a kind of twisted act of revenge, or if this was a misguided attempt from Ethan to make things more comfortable for Gray, mistakenly believing that Grayson was no longer happy about all the cuddling that they had been doing, and he was therefore trying to rectify the situation by silently returning to a bed on the other side of their hotel rooms, maybe even putting his own feelings and his possible sense of rejection to one side.

In the end, Grayson decided that he might as well try to rule out the second option, before he started to get really mad about option one.

Quietly, he pushed the covers back, got out of bed and quietly strolled over to Ethan's bed.

He noticed Ethan's body tense up before he even lifted the covers, and Ethan didn't even turn around to look at him, even though he must have had an idea what Grayson was about to do, but it didn't stop Grayson from sliding into Ethan's bed and then slowly, carefully, laying back down on his side so that he and Ethan were lying back-to-chest, and hesitantly reaching out his arms so that he could wrap them around Ethan and pull his brother in closer to him.

"E?" he whispered after a couple of seconds, when Ethan didn't offer any reaction to Grayson's attempts to cuddle him. He wasn't really sure what he was actually going to say, if Ethan even bothered to respond.

The silence stretched out in the cold air around them, and for a little while, Grayson was convinced that Ethan was going to ignore him or pretend to be asleep, so that he didn't have to deal with any potentially awkward discussions or "chick-flick" moments.

"Hmm?" Ethan eventually asked, the tension still obvious in his body and his tone of voice.

"I...uh...t-this, this is more comfortable, bro, when we're in a double bed...when there's only one bed in the hotel room..."

Grayson knew that it wasn't exactly his most eloquent sentence, and he wasn't even sure if it would make sense to his brother, but he decided that it was the best explanation he could offer, without mentioning outright just how much he loved cuddling with Ethan, just how much he had come to depend on it, and given the fact that he was really tired, and that Ethan would get uncomfortable with anything that seemed more sappy or 'girly'.

"Hmm," Ethan responded again, ambiguously, before Grayson felt his breathing even out, like he was falling asleep.

Grayson blinked in confusion, wondering if Ethan had even got what he was trying to say, and if he had got it, whether he was in agreement or not.

Grayson sighed and pulled Ethan in closer, deciding to make the most of the cuddling for tonight, just in case.

\---

Around a week or so later, two states flown over and gone by, Grayson decided to follow Ethan to the hotel front desk, telling himself that he was just curious to see what Ethan was going to do.

Ethan rolled his eyes and glared at him the whole time, and Grayson understood that he was annoyed by Grayson's close proximity, especially when the desk clerk raised her eyebrows and smirked suggestively at the two of them like they were having some kind of couple's argument, but Grayson decided that Ethan's anger was definitely an improvement on their behaviour earlier in the week, when things had still been tense and awkward between the two of them, and they had spent most of the flight to Arizona in silence.

When the desk clerk asked them what kind of room they wanted, aiming the question at Ethan and looking like she kind of already knew the answer, Grayson took advantage of Ethan's initial embarrassed silence and attempts at awkward mumbling to cut in with, "He wants a room with a king-sized bed."

It was more of a demand than a request, and it was said with a lot more firmness than kindness, and it led to a childish response from Ethan of, "No, you want a king-sized bed, Gray."

It was like this clarification actually mattered, but it seemed to work, because the desk clerk quickly nodded and handed a room key over to Grayson.

Grayson almost sighed with relief, because he knew that Ethan probably wouldn't have been brave enough to ask for a double bed in the end, given the circumstances, and he was kind of hoping that he'd just made another night of cuddling and closeness more likely.

Grayson could tell that Ethan was glaring at him again as they headed back outside, like it was Grayson's fault that everybody always seemed to get the wrong impression about them although they were fucking twins and look very much the same besides minor deviations. Then, as they got their stuff out of the rental car so that they could take it to the room, Grayson noticed Ethan tensing up all over again, ducking his head and looking really uncomfortable.

As they got nearer to the hotel room door, Grayson saw Ethan looking almost longingly in the direction of the bar they'd passed on their way to the hotel. A bar that Grayson was pretty sure was within walking distance.

Well, shit. Alcohol was never the answer but the second they turned twenty-one, Ethan didn't hesitate to have his first beer when Grayson, on the other hand, wouldn't touch the stuff with a ten foot pole.

Ethan looked even tenser when Grayson opened the door and the two of them stared at the king-sized bed, positioned right in the middle of the room like it was the room's main feature. He saw the flicker of panic in Ethan's eyes, like the situation was too much for him now.

"I'm gonna go out for a little while," Ethan announced quickly, already heading out the door. Like Grayson hadn't seen it coming.

Grayson felt a rush of panic and he tried to think of something to say to get Ethan to stay, something like an apology, now that he was starting to feel kind of guilty, or even an offer to go with his brother, but he didn't have enough time, because the door had already slammed, and he could already hear Ethan's rapidly retreating footsteps.

He started to panic even more as he listened out for the sound of the rental's engine, worried that Ethan would just drive away to another hotel in the city and leave Grayson alone for the night, only serving to increase the tension between the two of them.

Thankfully, the rental remained firmly in the parking lot, and Grayson decided that Ethan had just headed to the bar for a drink. He then started to wonder if he would find someone at the bar to go home with, so that he wouldn't have to come back to the hotel room, or if he would bring someone back and kick Grayson out.

Just as Grayson was starting to get annoyed by this possibility, he stopped himself and started to think about just how ridiculous this whole thing was. It was only cuddling; they did it all the time when they were kids, and they had pretty much been doing it every night for the past few months. Sure, Grayson enjoyed it, and it helped him to feel relaxed and closer to Ethan, but it wasn't a big deal, compared with everything else they had to face in their lives, and it wasn't something that merited endless discussions or tension or arguments.

Grayson knew that it would be healthy for them, to have space at night every once in a while, and Ethan had a right to put that distance there when he wanted, or to choose to share his bed with other people without Grayson getting angry or moody with his brother.

He sighed, wishing that he had just gone along with Ethan's discreet requests for double beds as and when he wanted them, without having to point out Ethan's bed preferences out loud.

Feeling a little calmer after this realization, Grayson changed into an old T-shirt and sweatpants, turned on the TV and got comfortable on the bed, spreading himself over the two sides as he made a firm decision that he would be fine about it if Ethan stayed out for the night, and that he would try to get a good night's sleep, and then in the morning, he would find a way to tell Ethan that the cuddling wasn't a big deal, that there was no problem if Ethan needed some time apart for a little while. He also decided, with a sigh of regret, that maybe he would have to give up the cuddling or the requests for cuddles, at least on a temporary basis, if that was what was needed to work things out with E.

However, to Grayson's surprise, less than an hour later, the door swung open, and Ethan was striding purposefully across the hotel room, shouting, "Move over!" bossily at Grayson as he headed in the direction of the bathroom.

The moment the bathroom door slammed shut, Grayson looked across the room from the main door to the bathroom in confusion, before he moved over, hesitantly, to the side of the bed that was farthest from the door.

Ethan walked out of the bathroom wearing his T-shirt and sweatpants, awkwardly climbing into the bed and moving closer to Gray, keeping his eyes on the TV the whole time, like he wasn't ready to fully acknowledge the situation yet.

Grayson also kept staring at the TV, trying to act casual, just in case Ethan was still in a freak out or run-away mode.

It was only when Ethan got right up close to Gray, the way he usually did at night to initiate the cuddling, that Grayson reached out to pull Ethan in, sensing Ethan's anxiety and wanting to comfort him and take care of him for a little while.

Ethan, however, tensed up and put out a hand in protest.

Grayson backed off, trying his best not to sulk or get annoyed, remembering his earlier decision to give his brother space when he needed it.

Surprisingly though, Ethan didn't back off; he simply reversed their positions a little so that he could pull Grayson down towards his chest, maneuvering them so that Grayson's head was resting on Ethan's shoulder, the way they used to sleep when they were kids.

Grayson got what it meant, when Ethan wanted to sleep like this. Their sleeping positions were often in reverse to what might be expected; when Ethan was feeling calm and confident and in control, he was usually happy to be vulnerable with his brother, leaning on Grayson's shoulder or his chest, or letting Grayson be the big spoon. Yet when he actually was feeling vulnerable, he needed Grayson to be the softer twin, he needed Grayson to seek comfort from him, and he wanted him to allow Ethan to feel like he was caring for and protecting him. It was Ethan's way of trying to gain more control or stability in a situation, so that he didn't look too weak.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, with Grayson slowly relaxing into Ethan's embrace, unable to stop the flood of happiness at being able to cuddle with Ethan again, but also sensing that there was something else to come, like there was something else to deal with.

Ethan's breathing got heavier, and he shifted around a couple of times, as though he were a little uncomfortable, and he raised his right hand a couple of times, like he was about to run his fingers through Grayson's hair, but he kept hesitating at the last second.

"We really gonna do this, every night?"

The question was asked in barely more than a whisper, but Grayson still heard it clearly.

At those words, Grayson was sure that he finally understood what this was all about: Ethan had been trying to slowly and discreetly ease them into more regular cuddling, and at first he had freaked out because Grayson hadn't seemed happy about it; but then, by telling Ethan that he was more comfortable in double beds, and pretty much forcing Ethan into getting one at this hotel to prove his point, Grayson had made this situation more real, more public, more permanent, pushing towards a change in their routine, a rewrite of their unspoken rules, maybe even a change in their dynamic, and that had freaked Ethan out even more, especially when the two of them had only recently come to terms with the fact that they enjoyed sleeping so close together as grown ass adults with grown ass problems and grown ass careers.

It didn't even matter if they both enjoyed it though, because any change in dynamic was still worthy of a freak out from either of them, especially after so many years of covering up emotions and feelings and viewing the need for affection as a weakness. Anyway, there was a difference between an unspoken agreement to cuddle more often when they had the opportunity, and a conscious decision to ask for double beds so that the cuddling could become a regular thing.

Knowing Ethan, he had probably headed out to the bar so that he could try to work himself up to asking Grayson if the cuddling was going to be a permanent fixture in their lives from now on, no doubt using a few beers to help settle his nerves.

Yet Grayson felt like he could deal with a question like that now; he felt like it would be easier than a decision to never cuddle again.

"It doesn't have to be every night, if that's not what you want, bro," he told Ethan with a grin, trying to sound reassuring, and at the same time breathing another sigh of relief. "And it's not like there has to be a plan or a routine behind it, and we can change things whenever we want."

He thought about all the reasons why they would need separate beds. A few of the reasons were social ones, but most of them were based around the knowledge that there were times when they argued and then ignored each other, times when they had really difficult tasks to complete with the company, times when they were on the road for days having to take a rental car instead of a flight because of money constraints with no other interactions than with each other, and they started to one another crazy.

"We need our space, sometimes," Grayson continued to reassure Ethan, deciding to leave it at that vague and general explanation, rather than going into detail. "I just meant that when we do...you know...this,"-he suddenly realized that neither of them ever said the word 'cuddling' out loud to describe what they were doing-"it's more comfortable in a double bed. And...uh...I don't mind, if we do it more often, because it's not like we don't enjoy it, right? And uh...it's cool if you keep asking for, you know, double beds...if you want, bub."

Grayson noticed that Ethan blushed a little, but even though he looked kind of embarrassed, he nodded, slowly, like he got it, like Grayson's suggestion was easier to deal with right now than the 'every night' possibility, then he sort of grinned, and ran a hand affectionately through Grayson's hair.

They fell into silence, but Grayson hoped that this silence was a more comfortable one.

"Bedtime?" Grayson asked hesitantly, breaking the silence by using their new night-time code word to check that Ethan was okay, that this was going to be okay, that they could both fall asleep peacefully in this position now, and that they weren't going to argue in the morning.

"Double bed time," Ethan responded, pulling Grayson in closer, before they started to drift off to sleep.


	13. If There is No You, There is No Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ethan passes away and Grayson can't handle it.

13.

Ethan & Grayson, 20

-

"I guess that's what saying good-bye is always like — like jumping off an edge. The worst part is making the choice to do it. Once you're in the air, there's nothing you can do but let go."

— Lauren Oliver, Before I Fall

-

Christina let out a long sigh, her eyes trailing the messy writing of Jeff who worked night shift. Her eyes darkened and her lips thinned before she handed the clipboard back to the nurse. Christina was mentally preparing herself to meet the family, she breathed in, and out. It was the downside of her job, but she wanted to believe she saved more than not.

Opening the door her eyes locked with a male, brown but bloodshot eyes, tan skin, shaky, large clasped hands and messy hair. With the dark bags under his eyes and the rapacious cold look in the dim of his eyes were enough for Christina to know this wasn't going to end prettily.

"How is he?" The man, Grayson Dolan, twin brother to beloved Ethan Dolan, twenty minutes younger but one inch taller, stood up, cracky voice wavering with lack of use or maybe perhaps the pure desperation. Eyes wild and blown searched her face, clearly looking for an answer, too blind to see or too in despair to not see it.

"Mr. Dolan, maybe you should sit down."

That was how all the conversations started.

°°°

Grayson bit the inside of his cheek, slowly and quietly closing the door, not wanting to wake up Ethan. He's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonna

No.

Grayson slowly walked closer to the hospital bed, his throat closed as he watched his brother. The black hair was messy, but still kindly staying off his sunken, pale and tired face. Slight dark circles under his eyes and the tone of his skin was enough confirmation of the doctor's words he needed. He's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonna

No.

Grayson slid closer, sitting down onto the plastic, empty chair that probably was soaked with bacterias from other desperate family members. A second of hesitation, and then he reached for Ethan's hand. As soon as their skins touched, he felt the cold, the numbing cold and in panick he looked over to the monitors, need to be assured he was still alive. It was too cold. He's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonnaHe's gonna

No.

Slowly, as gently as possible he ran his thumb over the cold skin, feeling every bone and every joint in Ethan's knuckles, and a sob broke out. Before he had time to collect himself, eyes fluttered. Half lidded, brown eyes shifted to his with slow, drained movements, and words weren't needed.

It had been like that from the beginning. Ethan and Grayson grew with each other practically mended from knees, so of course Ethan would know. Of course, he'd understand. And of course, he'd get that damn face on that made Grayson want to scream and hit something.

It was the look Ethan used whenever Grayson was down, hurt, in need of assurance or love. The look that screamed,

I'm here, it's okay.

No.

It's not okay.

"Hey." Grayson managed to choke out, the silence too much for him to handle. The clock on the wall, the constant tick, tock, tick, tock, was slowly driving him mad. As if time was mocking him, reminding him that this is happening, and Ethan's time is running out and...

...oh my god E's gonna...

No.

"Hey 'ourself." Ethan had peeped out, a sad sound of an old man, twenty years old you son of a bitch! He's only twenty years old. How could you, God?

Because Ethan was only twenty. He was twenty, and he had been such a good person, had changed so many lives for the better, made so many people laugh. And he was alive.

And whatever comfort that thought had previously brought to Grayson during his tensed nights, was all gone and again this mocking tone rang in his head.

And Grayson wasn't looking at Ethan, which was ridiculous because he could disappear any minute now forever, but looking anywhere else. The sheets, the walls, the blindings, the monitors, because he knew if he looked into those damn eyes there would be no coming back.

"Gray."

His head turned, tears burning in his eyes as he faced Ethan, his twin brother, best friend, the other half of his soul, his womb mate, everything. And Ethan knew. His normally full lips were thin, but slightly upwards tilted, his eyes never leaving Grayson and in their half lidded presence they still held the meaning of a thousand words.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, please- please don't-" His sobbing mumbling came to a halt as Ethan brushed his finger over Grayson's wrist, the soft touch on his skin something new and desperate in his mind he clung into.

And then he was jolting up from the chair.

He was practically climbing on top of Ethan, cradling his head, pleading everything and everyone to let him keep his brother, keep his womb mate, knowing no one would answer.

Twenty.

Why, God?

-

"I- I don't wanna go-" Ethan's breathing hitched, and Grayson curled up against him, already whispering sweet nothings, tears streaming down both their faces.

No.

"It's okay... It's okay, bub... I'm right here, I'll always be here."

We were supposed to die together. Fuck you! We were supposed to go together. FUCK YOU!

"I'll be with you till the end."

And both of them knew it was a lie.

"I love you- I love you so much Gray, please-"

"I love you too, bro. Shh... It's okay. I've got you, always..."

\---

"It's good seeing you again." Lie evident in his voice Grayson only gave a nod of his head, dismissing Kyle's kind gesture of trying to go for a hug.

37 days.

Grayson talked to a lawyer who specialized in the legal breaking of contracts, turned off social media, and contemplated deleting the channel.

If there's no you, there's no me.

He built a chair in the backyard by the pool 2:00 in the morning. After attaching the second leg onto the hard, cold oak wood of the base, he threw the hammer out onto the concrete where it slid into the pool, the weight making it plummet down to the water, to the very bottom of the pool. In the dark, Grayson pulled at his hair and screamed into his hands, the wet moisture of a Tuesday night, dispelling the silence, the horrible, clawing absence everywhere.

38 days.

Grayson took a sip of his protein shake, frowning at the taste but quickly carried away. He tried not to think about the dairy free coffee he had brought home without thinking.

39 days.

He talked to his grandmother late one evening, having purposely put her number to automatic voicemail.

I'm worried about you, Gray.

Grayson pretended that he, like a migrant, was slowly seeping into the walls, disappearing in the foreground, disappearing completely.

40 days

The dream was different than the others. Colder, somehow. Warmer, still. A strange contraction.

He was in deep, dark woods and then, having saw the house, walk up the rickety steps. Slowly.

The dim light of the moon was enough to show his surroundings, not that there was much to see. The house was furniture free, walls scraped to the start and curtains ripped.

"I don't like this movie, Gray. It's too scary. Let's watch Hocus Pocus!"

Grayson shivered, the voice in his head too happy and full of life to be real.

His head came up in alert as he found another cause of his shivers.

Not trusting his old knees he slowly turned around.

The colour leaves Grayson so pale he might as well be the man he's staring. Aside from the familiar brown eyes and still dark hair and those red shorts he always loved to wear, no matter the weather.

"E."

Grayson's voice in his throat. Hardly there. Fragile. 

The ghost, Ethan, doesn't flinch, his eyes locked with Grayson.

"Gray."

He feels his kneels buckling, stumbling to take support from the closest wall, hand flying up to his mouth to keep in the wails that are clawing to get out.

"Ethan..." He croaks out, and the ghost, Ethan, flickers, before he's a bit closer.

"I'm cold." He breathes.

And Grayson chokes in a sob, the view of Ethan blurring before he blinked, the warm and salty tears sliding down his cheeks without mercy.

And Grayson doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't know what to do.

"E," he reaches out, "it's okay... I'm here."

I'm here, E.

Grayson is silently begging for someone to put him down, as he blindly reaches towards Ethan's closing figure.

"You left." There's no anger, only pure sorrow and Grayson is breaking everywhere. A thousand pieces scattered throughout the dark part of his brain, across the steaming gray matter. Shards that have imbedded themselves, set up infection, blistering.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay." And this time, Grayson screams in his dream.

"It's not okay!" Grayson is sobbing violently, tears streaming down his face as he chokes on his words, tears blurring his view again.

"Ethan... you died."

And that had always been enough for anything. Any excuse, any burst of anger or affection, breakdown, screaming match or hug that lasted more than five minutes.

"I can't let go..." Ethan's eyes go darker suddenly, and his lip quivers and the tears won't stop.

Ethan reminds him of five-year-old Ethan, finding out Grayson was invited to a birthday party that he didn't get invited to even though they were in the same class.

"I'm sorry..."

Because he's sorry for everything.

Ethan is getting closer again, flicker of his image, step by step and Grayson doesn't back off. He wants to get closer but knows nothing will welcome him. Even in the thickness of his dream, he knows Ethan is not going to be lying in his bed beside him when he wakes up, won't turn over and hug him, a bright smile on his lips and lights of life and joy in his eyes.

Because Ethan's dead.

"Y-you gotta let go... You gotta let go, E, and go upstairs..." Grayson hardly manages.

You gotta go to Heaven, Ethan. You gotta let me go.

"I don't wanna go without you."

Grayson chokes, gasping for air as the sobs rock through his body like sharp, boiling knives.

"I know. I know, E, I know but-" Grayson can't finish.

He swallows thickly, looking at Ethan's face, his lovely, lovely face, a face that Grayson has known all his life, all his twenty years.

"You gotta let go. You gotta let go, Ethan. I love you, but you need to go" Grayson's shattering, and Ethan's staring him.

Ethan is still staring at him when he wakes up, wailing, tears steaming down his face, only his empty bedroom to greet him.

°°°

Grayson calms down later in the day. He goes to the coffee shop. He orders a dairy free coffee. He goes through his phone and looks at pictures. He smiles at the barista there. Her name is Bree. He tips around $700, 000 dollars. He leaves before she opens it.

Coming back home, it was as if he knew, no warm welcoming or bouncing Ethan, pure coldness and the bitter taste of loneliness. He walks to Ethan's room, sits on his bed, sets down his half-drunk coffee cup on the nightstand, and lets out a long breath.

41 days.

A gunshot.

0 days.

-

"Hey, E."

"Hey yourself."


	14. Sweet, Sweet Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of “Heat (Or the Lack Thereof).” The first time Ethan and Grayson spend Ethan’s heat as mates.

They are beautiful, angelic creatures that are treasured gifts from a higher power. With a pure soul and a heart two sizes too big for their chests, Omegas are kind, loving and sweetly compassionate, and are admired by the world and are important in the hierarchy.

"Omegas are the future."

At least, most people considered omega people to be beloved and cherished (except perverted, obsessive Alphas that break into your hotel room on your 4OU tour) . The downside to that, though, was that most were considered unquestionably vulnerable, unable to properly protect themselves, needing a big, strong Alpha to look after them.

Ethan had been trying to kill that myth since just about forever. He had proved time and time again that he could, in fact, take care of himself. And he really could. That didn't mean, however, that Ethan didn't like when Grayson made the effort to protective him, to cherish him, to love him like he was made of glass. He really didn't mind that at all.

It had been almost a year since Ethan had gone into heat after such a long time. It had been a year since he was able to dull that ache, pushed himself up from the incident four years ago that had severely impacted his life; the long held shame and pain started to dim, to fade away with Grayson's loving kisses, his gentle cresses; he had started to heal emotionally, physically, spiritually.

Throughout the year, Grayson eventually came to terms that Ethan really did what to be his mate and that he was, in fact, good enough. And although by the time it was six-month post-heat, a little less than half a year until his next, they were touching each other loving, mutually orgasming against nearly every piece of furniture in the house, showing together, and even holding hands in public, no matter what fans might speculate. (I knew it! Of course, they're mated, they're A/O twins!)

But, in reality, they hadn't mated. Grayson hadn't knotted him, hadn't penetrated him with his arching member, vibrators and fingers having been good enough so far. Grayson hadn't etched his claiming bite on the back of his neck, however he did seem as possessive as ever, making sure to scent mark Ethan whenever possible, even encouraging him to wear his shirts, even if they were a little loose on him. But at least they smelled like Gray, that masculine, comforting scent, so Ethan didn't really mind when he wore his shirts in public. It made him feel safe.

They hadn't mated because they were waiting for Ethan's annual heat.

And tonight is the night.

Grayson is extremely blessed to have a mate to kiss, cuddle, and protect against any threat that had the audacity to even look at him funny. He was seriously when he told Ethan he'd kill anyone who dared hurt him. He loved to touch and trail his fingers over Ethan's sun kissed, smooth body, gentle with every brush of his fingertips. Ethan had thickened up in all the right places in a year's time, the stress of missing his heat like a thing of the past. He had become a slim type of muscular in the chest region but, at the same time, it helped with the softness of his thighs. Grayson loved running his hand up and down those blotched thighs, all the way to his hip, dragging his hand down to skim against that round omega butt he loved so much, and then to his arm, watching the goosebumps form across his skin, watching Ethan smile lazily at him as they stared at one another on the mattress, in the comfort of the dark, nearly time for bed. Compared to last year he looked so much healthier and seems so much happier.

Grayson loves days when they are tucked away from the world, no YouTube videos to film, no business meeting to attend, no podcast to record, cuddling in bed, Ethan's head on his chest as Grayson runs his fingers softly up and down his spine. In his arms, his mate is safe and happy, and Grayson can breathe a sigh of pure happiness.

He has always been protective of Ethan, his heart leaping into his throat at the thought of him being in danger or hurt. He would die for his mate, would jump in front of danger without a thought to his well-being. Grayson had always been like that.

Mate.

Even after a year, he was still trying to come to terms with that Ethan really wanted him to be his Alpha, that the things he said in his heat induced state were real, weren't influenced by the increase of hormones. Not at all.

They knew it was going to be tonight.

They knew by the tracker on Grayson's phone and if it was any indication, Ethan was acting very peculiar.

It started early in the morning with a tingle in his belly and he had rolled over and nudged Grayson awake, told him that he felt it. His appetite had been off for about three days and Grayson didn't want him leaving the house to even go to the grocery store, sensing that Ethan was in a sort of pre-heat, smelling faintly like those almonds and oranges he revered so much.

The feeling in Ethan's tummy had just gotten worse as the day went on and he felt the urgency to stay in bed, to build his nest. So, understanding, Grayson just watched as his mate went to instinctually building their mating nest, throw pillows and white comforter being thrown this way and that, Ethan concentrating so heavily that when Grayson tried to help him, to slip onto the bed and subsequently into Ethan's half constructed nest without his explicit permission, Ethan had a grumpy high pitched sound of discontent, telling Grayson that this was something he had to do, that he didn't want him touching it until it was done.

After all, it had been five years now since he had properly made a nest during heat. Grayson just stood back, feeling his heart thudding in his chest, realizing the full extend of what was happening: Ethan was going into heat and they were going to really mate for the first time.

Now, Ethan is slightly feverish, hands cold and clammy, and his heart thumping wildly in his chest as an inch he cannot scratch builds in the pit of his stomach. They are both anxiously looking forward to a night of passion.

Almost finished with the nest, Ethan pauses a second, thinking he can feel slick, that his hole is getting wet and ready, practically throbbing with want.

"E?" Grayson asks, noticing how he's stopped completely.

"I'm fine," he replies, however he goes to the bathroom and feels around, finding himself dry, despite the sensation of his upcoming heat pooling deep in his belly. He slips a finger inside, bracing his hand against the counter when his hole instinctually clamps down, reacting to the delicious feeling of something inside him, even if it's just a digit. In front of that clear mirror, his is tempted to touch his nipples, but he knows that it will drive his instinct deeper, that Grayson will smell even better, that he really will start to get wet; they're sore, another precursor to heat that Ethan hasn't gotten the full experience since he was seventeen, and when he knows that they're getting full of his sweet milk. He looks down, his cheeks reddening slightly as he pulls at his left nipple with two fingers, watching the milk slip out, one droplet, two, from the oh-so-sensitive bud. With effort, Ethan has to force his finger out and calm his breathing, throwing back on Grayson's t-shirt to be able to finish making the nest nice and comfortable, the way he likes it.

Grayson cooks a delicious dinner for Ethan and feeds him during, pausing every few bites to brush his lips across Ethan's cheeks and whisper, "I love you, E."

"I love you too, Gray," Ethan says softly and takes the spoon from him, obviously exceedingly hungry.

"Are you nervous?" He asks, watching as Ethan takes the spoon from his hand and laps up a big portion of creamy dairy free mac-and-cheese. Ethan swallows, "Kinda. Kinda excited though."

The way Ethan is looking up at him makes Grayson feel weak in the knees. "Are you?" Ethan asks, raising one eyebrow in the way he does that is so damn sexy it should be a crime.

"No. I'm excited." Grayson says and although it's mostly true, he's also kind of nervous. He knows that when Ethan really goes into heat, he won't be. He knows that his instincts will drive him closer, will most likely throw him into a pleasurable rut, will make him worship the sounds Ethan makes, make him worship Ethan's everything.

Ethan smiles fondly when Grayson slides one hand up the warm skin of his thigh, stroking gently. Ethan is not wearing pants. He's just in his t-shirt and boxers. Just standing with him beside the stove, stuffing spoonful's of freshly made mac-and-cheese into his face, right out of the pan, the smell of his pre-heat making Grayson want to nuzzle him. It's so perfect that it hurts.

Grayson's touch on his bare thigh makes his mind flash to this morning when he'd been awoken in the best way; taken from the dream world by the sensation of plump, velvet soft lips gently touching his.

After his eyes had fluttered open, his mate worshiped him with kisses. For a hour, Grayson devotedly cherished Ethan with love, pressing his lips over every inch of sun kissed skin, and every once in a while he would playfully head butt Ethan's chest and growl playfully, delighted when his mate happily purred back and nuzzled him. Then, Ethan really felt it: the sensation in his stomach and Grayson's looked up at him, remembering what today was and smiled softly at him, kissing his bare belly lovingly.

As Ethan's mind flashes back to now, leaving the memory behind, he radiates happiness, shining brightly as he smiles. Grayson nuzzles Ethan's throat, feeling his pulse spike slightly, and when he scents the aroma of oranges and almonds lingering on Ethan's skin, so yummy sweet, the sensation that flows through him is pure bliss, like being wrapped in a cozy, fluffy blanket on a chilly winter day. Ethan loves the way Grayson makes him feel, the way the love and devotion, the undying passion, swarms' butterflies in his stomach and makes his heartbeat so quickly he thinks it may beat out of his chest.

With the building of Ethan's heat, Grayson feels the urge to take care of him throbbing in his heart. He takes the spoon from him and scoops up another spoonful of mac-and-cheese from the pot and tries to feed Ethan, but the Omega shakes his head, declining. Grayson was fully prepared to sternly insist he eat; he would not have Ethan going hungry and not having a good nutritional meal, especially when he knows how much energy they'll be burning during Ethan's heat.

However, when Ethan made it clear he wanted something more sensual then food, caressing Grayson's thigh and making a sound that's so soft but sweetly lustful, Grayson did not press the issue of finishing the meal.

"E," Grayson breathes like it's the only word he knows, leaning closer to his twin, lightly nibbling his Omega's soft neck.

He can feel Ethan run his hand through his hair, pulling gently on the stands when he reaches the back of his skull.

"What do you want? Do you want me to make love to you? Spread you out on our bed and worship your body with kisses until you're leaking wet? Maybe I will give you a warm bath first, get you nice and relaxed, make you feel good before I take you to bed and show you how much I love you, E?"

It's a rush of words build up from time and a deep, deep want. It's only then that Ethan feels something...and suddenly everything is beautiful and warm and Grayson smells so good that he wants to drown in his scent, wants his hands sliding over the plains of his body, wants his head dipped near his chest, suckling his overly sensitive nipples. The wetness that Ethan experiences is slick, and a lot of it. It comes gushing out of him, his throbbing hole, and when he realizes this is what's happening, he freezes stiffer than a statue.

Ethan's heart is beating too fast for him to speak, realizing that the throbbing in his belly has reached its peak, that he's in heat again, that sweet, sweet release he arched for a year ago, coming forth again.

I am not a broken body.

Growling possessively in his chest, Grayson smells it. He smells how much Ethan wants him, feels the emotion deep in Ethan's body, smells his desire. He looks into Ethan's eyes as his brother makes a noise that's close to a keen, deep in his throat, the high-pitched sound of an omega to an Alpha, the sound of permission. It says, I want you. I want you to knot me, bred me, claim me. I'm yours.

But Grayson has practice with his instincts and although the words that Ethan are saying to him now makes it very clear what he wants, Grayson thinks perhaps it would be better to get Ethan to have a nice, relaxing bath to calm him down. Maybe he's trying to prolong the inevitable. Maybe not. Grayson really does cares about his comfort. So, Grayson lifts him, easily sliding his muscular forearm to the back of his knees and his other arm supporting his shoulders and Ethan is panting heavily right next to his ear, kissing his throat, nibbling, trying to get as much pheromones on his tongue, tasting him.

Once in the bedroom, Grayson put Ethan down on his nest, headed toward bathroom, intending to run a bubble bath, but Ethan had stripped off his shirt and boxers quickly, and it was clear his mate wanted to be taken to bed fist, bath afterwards. Then, Grayson knew that this cycle would last for days, the only times Ethan wasn't in an intense heat would be for him to eat, to drink, to clean up. And Grayson would be there, right by his side, under him, over him, inside him, the whole time. Ethan was sweating a little more and his breath was hitting; it seemed the heat was setting in more ferociously.

"Gray."

The sound is so desperate that Grayson's breath hitches himself. He looks down at his naked form, takes in the slick that is slowly drippling down his legs, the way that his nipples are so pink and swollen, his omega body filled with sweet, sweet milk. Milk that would be used to feed their pups. And Ethan just falls back on the bed, shivering like he needs Grayson's warmth; his hands instinctually fist the sheets as he feels his swollen hole contract slightly, hyper sensitive and practically aching.

Grayson disrobes as his brother arranges himself on the soft, warm cotton bed sheets, turning over on his belly and then rising up.

"Gray, take me. Take me," Ethan pants, his cheeks flushed a sensual pink, "I want you. I want you. Knot me, claim me. Gray."

Face down and ass up, nude, Ethan is a sensual sight of lust and love and beauty. Grayson could feel something inside him snap, buzzing like electricity that sizzled through his nerves. He shuddered, growling. Ethan's sharp hearing picks up the sound of Grayson's clothes hitting the floor, and his breath catches.

Legs still spread wide, Ethan folded his arms under his head and rests his cheek on top his palm. The lights dim slightly, and the darkness is greeted by the strike of a flame as Grayson lights a few candles scattered around the room, all from their Wakeheart collection. Looking at the one called "Relax" makes Grayson remember a year ago when he'd finally gotten Ethan relaxed enough, aroused enough, safe enough, for him to fall back into in annual heat again.

Like Ethan had promised him 12 short months ago, they were going to be spending this heat together, as mates. He was more than right.

A moment later, there is a soft purr that rumbles from his Alpha. Ethan gazes behind him to see his mate standing at the end of the bed; he stands tall with his arms braced at the edge, leaning slightly and eyeing Ethan hungerly, his chest out, a display of dominance. Yet, in his body language, there is a show of tenderness; his soft smile is kindhearted. In the low light of the bedroom, Grayson is strikingly handsome, with his wide shoulders and thick biceps and soft brown eyes and a strong jaw. He's lovely and strong and handsome and safe.

And he's silently asking permission to enter Ethan's nest to mate him.

It's tradition. An Alpha isn't supposed to enter the nest if a.) that isn't their omega or b.) even if that is their mate, the omega doesn't want them there.

If Grayson is anything, he respects this silent agreement, this ancient ritual.

"Touch yourself."

Two words.

They're just two words. But those two words make Grayson' ache.

And although Grayson is the Alpha is this relationship and Ethan pants it with so much lust, he has to bite back the urge to crawl onto the bed and after his mate, Grayson obeys without protest. It isn't that hard, though, not with Grayson's monster of an Alpha cock primed and ready for breeding.

Ethan's gaze hungrily sweeps down the length of his mate's body as Grayson gives a firm stroke to his aching cock, flicking his thumb across the leaking slit of the head, holding back a low moan when the slippery wet moisture damps his fingertips. Ethan's eyes took in the sight of Grayson's toned cut abs then drift lower to the wispy dark hairs under his navel.

Grayson's long, thick cock is nestled in a batch of black curls, the flesh swollen and the tip leaking, curving upwards against his toned abs. Grayson was the most beautiful, erotic sight Ethan had ever seen; the smooth satin-soft skin of his mate's large cock begins to pull taut and darken with arousal, the flesh stiffening as the pleasure pulsed through him. Grayson is playing softly with his slit, more pre-come dripping from his fingertips.

Oh, how Ethan wants that inside of him, filling him up and thrusting deep up in him, locking he and Grayson together like two puzzle pieces.

He finds his heart skipping a beat as his much smaller dick gives an interested twitch. Ethan licks his lips, eyes Grayson's hesitation, and realizes:

"Come in."

Grayson quickly climbs onto the bed and on top of him, pushing him down onto the sheets and blanketing Ethan's back. He sets his mouth to Ethan's neck and the Omega moans as soft, tender kisses brush lightly over his skin. It makes warmth tingle in Ethan's belly. Grayson bites at the flesh softly, right at his nape, then sucks a light bruise into Ethan's neck just below his hairline, relishing the knowledge there would be an indelible mark when this was over.

Ethan's cock is at full-mast, pressing against fine silk sheets, and he groans and grinds his hips against the bed-sheets. He could feel his hole damping, slick, wet and warm around his rim; He shivers, thighs quaking and eyes blown with lust as a few dribbles of milky pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

Grayson slips a hand between his legs, his fingers teasing over Ethan's hard cock, and the Omega feels the flesh stir. Ethan's breath hitches as he's touched and his toes curl, dry lips become wet as he licks them. His mate's lips are velvet soft and lush, and each kiss is compassionately tender.

Grayson kisses his lips and rumbles, a hot kiss that makes Ethan's wet hole contract with pleasure, producing even more stick. Grayson smells so impossibly good that it is overwhelming. When Grayson takes hold of Ethan's cock and gives a good stroke all the way from root to tip, the touch sends a flash rush of pleasure straight down between Ethan's legs. He moans into the kiss, nipping his mate's lips and earning him a growl from his Alpha.

As amazing as the kiss is, it is nothing compared to the tenderness in Grayson's hands as he gently rolls him over onto his back, not man-handling him roughly like a typical aggressive Alpha would, especially when they're unclaimed mate is in heat, but instead laying him down softly like he is a precious gift that must be handled with care. Grayson clambers on top of him, rumbling lustfully.

When he leans down to suckle Ethan's nipples, swirling his tongue around and around the tiny pink nub, he feels Ethan's erection rubbing against his belly.

The moment he fully realizes that sweetness is Ethan's milk, he deepens it, sucking hungerly and Ethan pants, grabbing the back of his hair and pulling gently.

"Ah, ah, ah, Gray. Ah...mmmm...ah. That feels so good."

He peppers kisses up Ethan's chest to his throat, bites the skin gently before licking all the way up to Ethan's full lips, kissing him sweetly. When Ethan begins whimpering and squirming, Grayson presses his lips to his ear and whispers hotly.

"Are you wet for me, E?"

Ethan blushes, feeling his hole loose as he's leaking slickness. All too quickly, his hole is even more moist, sticky wet and warm. He doesn't trust himself to speak, knowing his words would come out, hitched and rough, so he nods, a little embarrassed.

He knows that by the way he is producing stick this generously, there will not be enough washing machines in the world to clean the sheets; it will be a lost cause as no amount of hot water and soap will rid the cloth of the white, sticky stains. Already, in a matter of seconds, he is dripping like a faucet and his thighs are sticky slick. His eyes are wide, lust-blown, his body aching for his twin.

"Roll over, E," Grayson says, the rumbles of his chest vibrating against Ethan's skin only making the omega leak more. He steals a kiss, smooching Grayson's soft lips and his panting breath hitches when Grayson playfully growls at him and spanks his bottom when he flips over.

Grayson kisses down the knots of his spine, and the lower the kisses flow the wetter Ethan becomes; already he is soaked, is hole sticky wet, and his natural aroma is that of oranges, so sweet and mouthwatering. Ethan bites his bottom lips and blushes when he feels his juices trickle from his hole, sliding down his balls and onto Grayson's hands on his legs, pressing softly in a command for him to spread his legs.

Ethan submits, obeys; spread out with his hole leaking and his balls hanging heavy between his thighs, Ethan gazes over his shoulder, and a gasp flows into a moan as Grayson presses his soft, pink lips to the sensitive wet skin of Ethan's hole. His tongue dips in, lapping up the slick heat and purring like a kitten enjoying sweet cream.

It reminds Ethan of the time that Grayson joked about "tossing salads" this time last year.

Grayson pleasures him, slowly licks Ethan, lapping up the honey sweet taste of his mate as his dick twitches between his legs. He hums at the rich, delicious taste, loving the sweetness of Ethan on his tongue. Gripping both cheeks, he spreads Ethan wider and licks the pink hole, groans, the rich musk that lingers on the skin. He circles his tongue around the furled ring of muscle slowly, loving that Ethan is moaning so sweet and pretty.

Grayson's tongue dances in wet figure eights, coiling and swirling over the twitching flesh; he tongues him, stabbing at the pucker with the tip of his tongue before licking him wetly, and Ethan whimpers, back arching beautiful, long and lean, as he pushes back against the source of pleasure.

He licks a swipe over Ethan's hole and nips lightly, and Ethan gasps breathless as his hole spurts a small drop of slickness. Ethan tugs on his dick hard to keep the intense pleasure at bay. Silently, Grayson preens on giving his mate pleasure. Making Ethan feel not only good, but passionately desired, is what he loves most. Ethan deserved everything. The omega tingles all over as Grayson laps up his juices, a small sound fell from his mouth, chest heaving.

He is so caught up in the moment of lust that he is taken by surprise by the rough prickle of Grayson's stubble brushing the cheeks of his ass. He hears Grayson chuckle playfully, before a wet warm tongue laps soft and slow at his furled hole. Ethan feels his heart kick when Grayson's hands spread his cheeks open and warm breath flutters over his tight hole; Grayson noses his heavy, warm balls, and Ethan groans, gasping when Grayson scrapes his teeth against his perky ass cheek.

Grayson bites down on the mound of soft flesh, not too hard, just enough to make Ethan whimper and cause his cock to thicken, to harder. Grayson kisses Ethan's hole softly, then wiggles his wet tongue around the rim, drawing figure eights over the twitching pucker once again. A zipping jolt of arousal dances up Ethan's spine as his head is spinning, and the room is turning in circles; his slick hole twitches against Grayson's tongue and he grows wetter, the slickness dripping out of him, stick and thick, warm and wet, and Grayson laps it up like the sweetest treat.

Ethan moans and whimpers and claws at the sheets as Grayson proceeds to drive him wild, his eyes fluttering closed as his dick leaks steadily, creating a creamy damp spot below him. All the while his hole releases trickles of slick, sticky like syrup and sweet like honey, as an orgasmic high swarm his body. Ethan can't take the teasing; he feels like he's losing his mind, but that's just too bad. Grayson holds his hips tightly, keeping him from pulling away, and feasts on his hole, licking and nibbling, and Ethan howls and whimpers as he feels his tongue and stubble brush against his overheated sensitive smooth skin.

Grayson dips his tongue into Ethan's hole, wriggling it against the silky warm muscle before he sucks wet kisses into the baby soft skin, and Ethan can hear the filthy wet suckling sounds Grayson makes as he licks him, and the sounds and damp sensation makes his dick throb and his balls clench. Ethan could never love anyone else more than Grayson right at that moments.

There is time for kisses as Grayson's fingers work him open, even though his body is making itself ready to be taken; the slick gushing out of his hole as the muscles loosens. Those fingers are wet with his excitement, no painful drag of skin on skin. Kisses press all over his face as loving words whisper to him, and when he does grip the sheets between his hands and his hole clenches tight around Grayson's fingers, it's not from pain, but intense pleasure. He is desperate for Grayson to make love to him, and thankfully, his mate gives him what he craves. Grayson lines up to Ethan's hole and slips in, gasping at the wet heat squeezes around him.

Finally, that sweet release.

Finally, after a whole year.

They press head to toe with Grayson on top of him, gazing lovingly into Ethan's eyes as he grinds his hips, and there is no rush, only a lazy thrust in and out as Ethan is granted kisses. He's careful, doesn't want to hurt Ethan with his size. But Ethan's legs wrap around Grayson's waist, holding him close while his ass is stuffed full with eight inches of cock impaling him.

The pleasure is growing hotter every time Grayson slots back inside, his breath quickening every time Grayson dives inside the heat of the slicked hole.

Ethan is slick and open enough that Grayson smoothly slides in, groaning as Ethan's rim opens easily around his thickness, his cock dragging over Ethan's prostate with every measured grind of his hips. Ethan's breathing heavies while his moans increase, and all the while Grayson rumbles, "gorgeous," and "beautiful," "I love you."

Ethan moans passionately as his mate grinds into him, his heart skipping beat in his chest as Grayson steadily increases his pace, listening to every passionate moan and pleasurable gasp Ethan makes, his balls tightening as they slap against Ethan's smooth, perky ass.

"Damn, you feel so good," Grayson groans as he rocks into Ethan. "So perfect, so perfect. I love you, E. I love you." Hips rocking, he growled softly as Ethan's ass tightened around his thickness, his breath quickening as the pleasure burned brighter.

No sight was more beautiful in the world than Ethan. Ethan looks gorgeous like this...shivering with warm pleasurable shocks, breath hitching as he moans and whimpers, limbs straining with tension, his strong muscular body spread eagle on the satin soft sheets. He's captivating, entrancing. Ethan smells like sex and sugar, musky and ripe. He smells like love. Grayson groans as the omega's silky-smooth inner walls constrict around his girth, squeezing nice and snug.

"I know. I love you, too, Gray," Ethan whispers as he feels Grayson's knot blossom like a beautiful desert rose, nudging at his rim. He nearly cries out with relief at the sensation; finally, the knot. It feels so good that Ethan cries out. Grayson slows his pace a little, thinking it is hurting him, but Ethan shakes his head, panting.

"Mmmm, no, harder, Gray. Mmmm. That feels, ah, good. Knot me, knot me, baby."

Their lips are lovers, their hands are best friends. It's everything he needs from Ethan, those words, and when they tie, he whispers in his ear, "Come for me, E."

Ethan's world explodes in a burst of white light and orgasmic bliss.

Ethan feels his mate's hot cum fill him as he gives into his own sweet release, coming hard as he holds onto Grayson tightly; his body convulses, his vision is blurred with stars. He parts his lips, and Grayson claims his mouth for a passionately lustful kiss, his toes curling as dearly affection and love flutter in his heart. Then, Grayson takes a hold of his neck, turns it so that he can get part of his nape and bites him hard. Ethan's whole body tightens like a vice, his eyes squeezing shut at the sudden claiming bite, but as Grayson releases, another orgasm hits him, one stronger than the first. They both feel the bond settle over them as Grayson licks at the bite mark and Ethan pulls at the back of his hair, trembling as his hole clamps down hungerly, as Grayson is still spilling his seed within him. Grayson's knot throbs inside him, tugging on the rim of his hole as Grayson gives a few last thrusts while he rides out the pleasure.

As they collapse on the bed, the heat burns off for the moment until the last waves leave Ethan's body and he is sore and exhausted. Grayson, pleasantly spent and sated, tenderly pulls Ethan into his arms and kisses him, nuzzling his flushed cheek and whispering to him softly.

Their hearts are beating in sync as their bodies are bound by the knot, and Ethan's entire body aches fiercely, feels so damn good, and there is a silly dopey grin on his face and his dimples pop out; he's so happy and in love with his mate-finally claimed and fully mated- that a few tears of joy stream down his face. Grayson brushes away the tears and kisses Ethan lovingly, snuggling him as he cuddles him, feeling finally fully satisfied. Mated. Truly. Forever.

"I love you, E," Grayson whispers.

Ethan blushes while his eyes are so soft, "I love you too, Gray."


	15. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson's pregnant and at seven months along, can't fall asleep one night. Ethan takes care of him.

15.

Ethan & Grayson, 22

Top!Ethan, Bottom!Grayson

\--

"Couldn't sleep?"

Grayson startles, almost drops the book he is holding in his hand. He had been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes or so, trying to get his tired mind to focus. Being dyslexic, it's always easy to just pop a book open and the sheer effort of trying to read it usually means he's out like a light within five minutes. Not now, however.

He must have drifted.

"Easy, Gray." Ethan reaches over and takes the book from Grayson, places it carefully on the coffee table. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Wasn't scared." Grayson mumbles, struggling to sit up straighter. Everything is a struggle when you are seven months pregnant and as huge as a house.

"That must have been the baby that jumped like seven feet then." Ethan comments with a smile, leans down and he places a kiss on Grayson's swollen belly; Grayson swears that Ethan is just addicted to that. "Not even here yet and Daddy is already pointing his long gnarly fingers at you."

Grayson swats him away. "What are you even doing up? It's like four in the morning, bro."

"Woke up cold and alone." Ethan plops down on the couch beside Grayson. "My furnace was missing so I had to go find him."

Grayson snorts and lays his head on Ethan's shoulder. "Furnace huh? Nice to know I am still good for something."

"Also good at incubating." Ethan's hand is once again on Grayson's stomach, where it usually lands when they are anywhere near each other, which they are most of the time.

A friend of a friend of a Youtuber had let them use this cabin, deep in the woods of Nowhere, Wyoming. Here they are known as Mr. and Mr. Dolan. If anyone suspects anything, they don't say anything. It's obvious that they aren't married, especially since, you know, they look so similar. There hasn't been anyone who asks about the large baby bump that Grayson now has to cover with extra-extra-large t-shirts. Well, almost anyone. He still gets the "aws" and "girl or boy?" and "wow, you are sure big, aren't ya? When's it due?" whenever they go out, but it doesn't really bother Grayson anymore. He's traded one spotlight for another, it seems.

Their nearest neighbors are four and a half miles down the road, an elderly couple named Joe and Sophia Greenhorn. Sophie has already made the baby three quilts. The last one was dark pink with lighter pink bunnies. Ethan insisted there was no way that their baby was going to sleep under that much pink, but it was folded neatly in the dresser in the baby's room along with the others.

"I don't feel particularly good at incubating right now." Grayson confesses. His back hurts. It also turns out a lifetime of sleeping on his stomach makes it very hard to sleep when his stomach is so huge. "The baby keeps kicking; I think she has her days and nights mixed up already."

"Hmm." Ethan rubs his palm against Grayson's pregnancy belly. "Yeah, man, I think you're right." 

Grayson yawns and snuggles closer to his twin. Now he feels three seconds from falling to sleep, but he knows from bitter experience once he is in bed, he will be restless, mind racing and body refusing to relax.

Ethan moves, and Grayson frowns at the loss of his nice solid pillow. Ethan stands up and holds out his hand. "C'mon, let's see if we can get you more comfortable so you can get some sleep."

It takes three attempts for Grayson to make it off the couch. He can't imagine how he is going to get around in two months time. He's a big guy, but he never imagined how damn heavy a baby could be. He wants to give every pregnant woman or man in the world a big hug just about now.

Grayson guesses that he will just have to find a place to sit and stay there, make Ethan wait on him hand and foot...actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

In the bedroom, Ethan sits Grayson on the edge of the bed. "All right, let's get these off of ya." He says, tugging on Grayson's sweatpants.

Grayson looks up at him, raises an eyebrow. "Taking my clothes off seems to be the opposite of helping get me comfortable, Ethan."

Ethan smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. Grayson rolls his eyes. A familiar call and response: "I can't believe you are even thinking about that. Look at me, I'm freaking huge, bro."

"You've always been freaking huge." Ethan says as Grayson obediently lifts up his hips and Ethan pulls his sweats and boxers off.

"You know what I mean." Grayson can hear himself, hears how pathetic he sounds, and yet still can't stop himself from pouting. Fucking hormones. He lifts his arms, lets Ethan pull the sleep shirt off.

There is silence after his remark. Grayson looks up to see Ethan staring at him, eyes hungry, his upper teeth worrying his lower lip. Grayson flushes, resists the urge to try to hide his huge belly, as if that was even possible.

"Lie down on your side." Ethan urges. "Let's see if we can get some of those kinks out of your back."

He hadn't told Ethan that his back was hurting, but of course Ethan knew. Sometimes it hit Grayson out of the blue, how lucky he was to have him in his life.

Grayson lays down on his side, huge stomach sticking out and squiggles around until he finds a position that is as comfortable as it is going to get for him. The baby, clearly upset about the change in her longitude, begins moving.

Ethan kneels in front of the bed, a hand rubbing Grayson's stomach. "I guess Grapeson Junior didn't get the message that it's time to rest."

"Grapeson Junior?" Grayson asks.

"Yeah, bro. It's perfect." Ethan grins up at him, that wide open fearless smile that always causes a flutter deep inside of Grayson that has nothing to do with the baby.

"Yeah. No. Not happening."

"Tony? Tony Hawk? 'Cause she's going to be a skateboard fan just like her Papa. No lame skateboard names for my girl."

"Also no."

"Gucci? Parada? Louis Vuitton? Blue Oyster or Oyster Blue?"

"I have chosen a dumbass to be the father of my child." Grayson huffs. He shifts again; she's really going to town in there.

Ethan kisses the top of Grayson's rounded belly, then keeps on with his soothing rubbing. He begins to sing in a gruff, more-than-slightly off-key voice:

"Hush my darling, don't fear, my darling

The lion sleeps tonight."

"Really?" Grayson asks. "Seriously. Ethan. You bitch if I play classical music, saying it will cause her to grow up all stuffy, but this is okay?"

"Shh, I'm trying to put the baby to sleep." Ethan chides, lips once again brushing against Grayson's stomach as he continues.

"Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling

The lions sleeps tonight.

Weeheeheehee, dee heeheeheehee, weeoh aween away

A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a weema-weh, a-weema-weh" 

Unbelievably and as improbable as it is, it is working. Faith – as Grayson has begun to call her in his head, though he's not broached this with Ethan yet, too scared of being instantly shut down (which to be fair he has done on a lot of Ethan's choices of names, which, to be even more fair, Ethan knew he would when he came up with his ridiculous choices), has begun to still.

Ethan grins up at him, his voice lower, and almost close to being in tune as he finishes

"Rrrrr, lalaba, weeoh aweem away

A-wema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh

A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh"

For a second there is nothing but silence. Grayson places his hand over Ethan's, now both covering Grayson's belly, and their miracle little girl.

Ethan stands up and Grayson pulls his hand away, looking up at his twin.

"Now that I've taken care of her." Ethan says. "It's your turn."

Ethan undresses quickly, throwing his clothes on a nearby chair. Once undressed, he stands before Grayson, beautiful, naked, his.

He kneels down again, kisses Grayson softly, almost reverently. Moves his lips further down, soft kisses covering Grayson's stomach. "You are so fuckin' handsome."

Grayson wants to scoff, but Ethan kisses him again, lays the softest of claims to Grayson's lips, a hand stroking his stomach. "You are, Grayson. So handsome."

He sounds so sincere, so in awe, Grayson desperately wants to believe him.

"Let's get you comfortable." The moment has passed, and Grayson sighs and lets it go.

Ethan climbs in behind Grayson, pushes him around a bit so that Grayson is leaning forward. His hands begin rubbing Grayson's shoulders. "Man, bro, you are so tense. There must be a thousand knots back here, this might take all night."

Grayson bends his neck forward to give Ethan more access. "You'd better get started then. This is all your fault anyway. You are the reason I am carrying this hyper-active baby who thinks my bladder is some kind of ball just asking to be kicked."

He may sound a bit petulant, but he's so freaking tired.

"I could get on board with having an athletic child. Why not?" Ethan teases as his fingers perform their magic. Grayson can already feel some of the tension drifting away. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't get you pregnant all by myself. No cap."

Grayson can feel himself relaxing more by the moment, his body sinking deeper into the mattress. "Says the 'condoms are for one-night-stands not for my one and only' guy. It's hard to believe you ever got laid, man, with that kind of pick-up line."

"Worked on you didn't it?" Ethan's hands are going lower, mid-back now, and as they inch lower still, Grayson's beginning to be aware he isn't quite as relaxed as he original thought. Fucking hormones.

Ethan notices, because of course he does. "Well I see somebody's Sex Pistol is awake."

"Oh my god, didn't we already have the discussion where you are not allowed to name my cock or any other part of my body, Ethan? Didn't we? 'Cause, bro, I think we did." Grayson might be mortified, but his cock is swelling even more, clearly happy with the attention it is getting. Traitor.

Ethan's hand lands on Grayson's hip and then inches forward slowly, torturously so. "Weapon of Destruction, love staff, big Willie, The Python, Moby Dick..."

"You aren't allowed to name anything ever –" Grayson's words dissolve into a gasp as Ethan's hand wraps around his cock. He goes from kinda hard to could cut glass in as long as it takes Ethan to stroke him from tip all the way down and back up again.

Ethan's hand disappears and Grayson barely bites back a whine as he hears the unmistakable sound of a cap being popped off. "I thought you were supposed to be helping me relax."

A finger, wet with lube is pressed against his hole. "Oh, trust me, Gray, you will be relaxed after this."

The finger presses in all the way, and Grayson arches, as much as he can. Ethan knows what he can take, and Grayson trusts him to get him what he needs.

Grayson reaches down and begins to slowly stroke himself as one of Ethan's hands rests possessively on his hip and the other finger continues to pump in and out. They have sex regularly (very regularly after Grayson's hormones really kicked in) and it isn't long until one finger becomes two becomes three. Ethan is scissoring and stretching but not once does he touch Grayson's prostate because he is the evilest lover ever. "E." Grayson pushes back against the fingers inside of him. "C'mon, I need it."

"I know what you need." The fingers are removed and replaced with the tip of Ethan's lube-slicked cock. "I will take care of you, bro. I always do."

Ethan inches in slowly, so slowly, so carefully, as if Grayson was a fragile thing, not a fully grown six-foot man. His hand remains on Grayson's hip, fingers gently stroking the sensitive dip there.

"You're so damn handsome, Gray." Ethan whispers against his neck, breath hot, his other hand flexing in Grayson's hair. "No cap."

He pulls back out just as slowly, carefully, and the same languid thrust back in. His lips are on Grayson's neck, kissing and sucking and his hand in Grayson's hair is stroking and giving a slight tug every now and then. Grayson is so lost in the sensation of the slow drag in and out that he doesn't even realize his hand has stilled on his cock.

The hand on his hip reaches over further, rubbing against Grayson's stomach. "You are the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen, Gray." Ethan whispers as he continues his gentle little pushes in and out of Grayson. "I've heard that pregnant people glow but – fuck bro."

His hand goes higher, ghosts over Grayson's nipples which are instantly hard. Ethan is kissing his way across Grayson's back, lavishing attention to the area between his shoulders. He never stops rocking into Grayson, never alters his pace. A gentle push in, pull out, back in and Grayson's drifting, Ethan's voice, hands, lips his anchor.

He loves it when Ethan is rough and demanding, Grayson loves to take charge himself sometimes too, but this – this is something akin to being worshipped. This is beginning to maybe believe Ethan when he says he's handsome, when sometimes all Grayson can see is how huge and ungainly he's gotten.

Ethan's thrusts are shallower, just tiny pulses in and out, there aren't bright sparks when his prostate is nudged, just brief flares of pleasure. "Feel so good. Always feel so good. Like you were made for this. Made for me."

A tiny nip on a shoulder, a fingertip brushing against a nipple. Grayson is reminded of how hard he is, how much he needs to come.

He starts stroking himself again but isn't surprised at all when Ethan nudges his hand away. "Let me." He says, and his strokes are in time with his thrusts – slow. Grayson thinks of the waves of the ocean, gently rippling, as the tide moves in.

"I'm not glass. Ethan. Won't break." He can hear how husky his voice sounds. It feels almost too much, feels like something he is maybe not worthy of.

"Just close your eyes, enjoy the ride." Grayson can feel Ethan's smile against his neck, as he continues his soft pushes in, out. "Next time I promise to be rough as you want, pound you with my hammer so good."

"You officially suck at dirty talk. Besides it's more like a leaky valve than a hammer." Grayson quips, and yelps when his hair is tugged hard.

"Bro, rude." There is no heat to the words that Ethan whispers into his shoulder. Ethan refuses to get riled though, his hands, his lips, still so soft and sweet. Every touch is a caress, every whispered word of love a lullaby.

Defenses wearing down, there's nothing for Grayson to do but melt into the sensation.

Grayson has no idea how long the gentle rocking goes on; he's lost all sense of time and space. He just – surrenders. Let's Ethan take care of him. Let's himself just be in the moment, lets Ethan fill him up.

"I'm close."

Grayson notices his rhythm is beginning to falter. The thrusts in are more solid, he's pulling out faster. Ethan's breathing is staccato, his hand on Grayson's cock not as gentle. "C'mon Grayson, I want us to come together."

Grayson can feel his balls tighten, a Pavlovian response to anytime Ethan asks him to come. He can feel the tension building up low in his stomach. Ethan is rapidly stroking Grayson's cock, teasing Grayson's slit in the way he knows will drive Grayson crazy. He's thrusting in with more intent, still not rough but the need is unmistakable. "C'mon. Come for me."

Grayson does, calling out Ethan's name like a prayer. The orgasm crashes over and through him, his come covering the blanket in front of him, his cock pulsing as it empties. Ethan follows him over the edge, spilling deep inside of Grayson.

There is a long pause, where Ethan's hand returns to Grayson's hip and the sound of both their harsh breathing hangs in the air.

"So, you relaxed now?" Ethan asks. Grayson's eyes are closing, but in his mind's eye he can easily imagine Ethan's smirk.

He wants to say something snarky back, but his mind is too hazy to focus so all he manages is "Yeah."

He hears Ethan get off the bed and feels the warm wet towel as it cleans him up. Ethan urges him further back, away from the wet spot, and Grayson tiredly goes. Ethan climbs back in bed behind him, apparently he's going to be the big spoon tonight. Neither bother getting dressed again.

Ethan's hand returns to the hip that he has held so many nights. His front is a warm, steady pressure to Grayson's back. Grayson doesn't mind curling up a little so they fit.

"Faith." Grayson whispers as sleep begins to drag him under. "I think we should name her Faith."

He doesn't hear Ethan's response but the next day there is a new sign on the nursery door, wooden letters carefully cut out and painted by her Papa's hands.

Faith.


	16. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan is a "domesticated" pure blood werewolf on a quest to find his mate. Grayson is a battle-scarred, feral recluse who lives in the woods. They're two alphas, and perfect strangers – and somehow, it's true love.
> 
> Or the one in which Ethan and Grayson are twins but they were raised apart and only Grayson knows of Ethan's existence. 
> 
> -

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Ethan had heard about mating for as long as he could remember.

It was way more complex than just falling in love; for his kind, it was the single most important event in a person's life.

The exact combination of factors that went into forging that bond was hard to pin down. Part of it was pheromones, part of it was intuition, and part of it was pure chance. The traditionalists in his pack – mostly the older generations – still held to the superstitious idea that it was all about fate, and there was one perfect person destined to be mated with every other. The one thing everyone could agree on was that you never knew when it would happen, but there was no mistaking it when it did.

Except it didn't happen to Ethan.

His dominance in the male ranks was firmly established, but at age twenty-six he was one of the oldest unmated members of his pack. He felt the restless, anxious desire to breed– but it was never directed at one woman in particular. There was no connection, no preternatural call to bond with one other wolf for life. Year after year, he watched weaker alphas pair off with their mates while he remained alone.

He was almost tempted to think the whole concept was just a fairytale, some hold-over from the days when their kind lived apart from humanity and had to find reasons to not intermingle – but no, that wasn't it, either. He saw the way mated pairs behaved; the protectiveness they felt for one another, the way they could pick that wolf's scent out from the mixed musk of the entire assembled pack. That couldn't be faked. It was as intense as the bond between a wolf and their cub.

And apparently Ethan wasn't going to find it in his own pack.

He didn't tell anyone the real reason he decided to take a semester off from graduate school and travel. Mating outside one's group wasn't entirely unheard of, but it wasn't common, either.

These were the moments that Ethan wished he had a brother or sister to talk to. Somebody that could be there for him. Ethan knew that he wasn't meant to be an only child. In fact, he had a twin. Except the elders in his pack said he died right outside the womb. He was born stillborn. Ethan doesn't really like to think about that.

Ethan wasn't born of the pack. Ethan's mother had been a pure blood, a beaten, abused omega, who had wandered onto the pack territory. The pack had taken her in, nursed her back to help. A few short months later she went into labor with her twins. She hadn't made it, perished from excessive blood loss and neither had her second born.

Ethan always wondered about that...what would life had been like if they were both alive?

Perhaps then Ethan wouldn't feel like such an outsider.

He was pretty sure the whole thing would have sounded ridiculous – yeah, I've decided to road-trip around the country in search of the person I'm going to share the rest of my life with; I'll send you a postcard when I find her – and he didn't need to see the pity in anyone's eyes as they tried to tactfully tell him he was being stupid.

Maybe he was being stupid. Maybe he was desperate. He just knew he had to try, because he wasn't ready to accept the idea that destiny screwed him out of the best part of being a wolf.

What's wrong with me?

\---

Ethan roamed for almost a month before ending up in Riley, and it was impossible to say what led him there.

The route he'd taken up to that point was lazy and aimless, since he didn't have a real destination. He'd wandered through Idaho and down into Wyoming before looping back up. He knew the layout of pack territories like he knew the states, and he'd already passed through six of them, but for some reason he'd strayed into the unclaimed wilderness that made up most of Montana. Werewolves liked to like to gather around civilization, priding themselves on their ability to lead normal human lives; there was no reason to think he'd find his mate in neutral, isolated territory. No reason to pull off the highway in the middle of nowhere, take an exit for the first smattering of civilization he'd seen in hours.

Somehow Ethan just knew this was where he needed to be.

He could sense it more than he could smell it, although there was a definite thread of something exciting and strange in the air. His whole body ached and throbbed with inhuman energy – a feeling he'd come to associate with the flux of the lunar cycle, or impending danger. His wolf-mind picked up on things he couldn't always consciously grasp, and it knew. This was the place.

The town could barely be called a town at all – it was little more than a layover for the occasional trucker or traveler taking the scenic route. The only lodging was on the outskirts, a rustic and hap-hazard collection of cabins tucked between the trees.

"Don't get many visitors this time of year," the clerk said when Ethan booked one for the night. "You just passing through?"

"Not sure yet," Ethan said. "I might be a few days. Looks like a nice area."

The clerk eyed him, almost like he was sizing him up.

"If it's the outdoorsy experience you're looking for, you'd do better heading on up to the Falls."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "We're in the middle of a national forest, aren't we? It doesn't get much more outdoorsy than that."

The man chuckled as he held out Ethan's receipt.

"True enough. These parts just aren't real friendly for hikers and whatnot. Not real safe, if you know what I mean."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. This was...odd. Why the fuck was this guy looking at him like that?

"Are there a lot of bear attacks, or something?"

"Wolves," he said, meeting Ethan's gaze. "There's one nasty sumbitch out there in particular, like to tear a limb off as soon as look at you. I'm not trying to scare you – just telling you what the locals already know. You don't have anything to worry about as long as you stay close to civilization. Just don't go wandering in the woods."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ethan said politely.

He didn't bother unpacking the bags he hauled into the little cabin. There wasn't time for it. With every passing minute, the urgency he'd first felt on the road got more intense. It settled low in his belly, filling him with a sweet, unfamiliar tension that radiated all the way down to his fingertips. Her presence was calling to him, and it didn't matter what else what else was out there in the woods – the animal the clerk described had to be a full-blood wolf, and they were nasty in a fight (he knew, he was one himself)– Ethan couldn't turn back now. He couldn't do anything until he found his mate and made her his own.

Before he could think it through, he was clambering down the cabin steps and heading out into the trees.

Ethan made it about a mile away from the cabin before shifting into his wolf form. He was faster on all fours, his senses sharper and more refined; when he took a deep breath, the mingled smells of the forest adding a deeper texture to everything surrounding him.

He could smell dozens of different animals – some afraid, some nesting, some dead and decaying on the ground. There was a source of water not too far away, fresh and cold and clean. Much of the fallen brush on the forest floor was dry enough to burrow in if he couldn't find other shelter.

And beneath all those smells, like a single bass note held under a wild and sprawling symphony, was the scent of his mate.

It had its own complexities, but they were tangled around each other and came to him as a single thing -- like the different features of a face he'd only glimpsed.

The presence of a savage, dangerous wolf didn't seem to have stopped Ethan's mate from wandering all over the forest.

What was she doing here all alone?

He caught traces of that strange, delicious scent everywhere he roamed, and it took most of the afternoon to track it to its source; by the time he was close enough that it overrode all the other smells of the woods, the sun was hanging low in the sky casting everything in hues of salmon pink and a deep orange and stark yellow.

His pulse quickened as he closed in on his prey, his body thrumming with excitement.

When the wolf came into view, Ethan almost didn't believe his eyes.

It was an alpha.

There was no mistaking it was a male.

And it looked....oddly like himself. At least in color. That mix of dark brown and black, bleeding into each other.

And judging by its appearance, it was the very one he had been warned about.

Physically the wolf was no bigger than most alphas Ethan had seen, about the same size as himself, but it was clear he was strong. His broad frame was thick with muscle, his movements were smooth and powerful, and his muzzle was criss-crossed with black scars that spoke of countless battles fought and won. If Ethan couldn't detect something faintly human about his scent – and if he wasn't overwhelmed with the need to hold him down and breed – he'd have no problem believing this was a true wolf.

He froze when Ethan leaped into the clearing, and for a moment the two regarded each other.

Those bright amber eyes bore into his own and for a second Ethan thought he saw himself in those eyes, could see himself staring into a pond. Those were his eyes, he realized.

Ethan did not understand.

The scent was overwhelming at this close proximity, leaving no doubt that this was the wolf Ethan had been stalking all afternoon. He could pick up much more detail now, smelling anxiousness and surprise -- and even stronger than that, arousal. It was sharp, pungent, so sweet it made Ethan's cock swell and push free of its sheath.

This wolf knew it as well as Ethan did: they were going to mate.

Ethan knew exactly how this would play out with an omega. He'd seen it at least a hundred times before. The alpha would pin them, dominate them, and they would submit. The first round of breeding, the one that established the claim, could happen in human or wolf form. All that mattered was that coupling.

He'd heard stories of it happening between two alphas, but he'd never seen it with his own eyes. 

It never occurred to him how difficult it might be to mate when neither wolf was hard-wired for submission.

When the tension between them finally snapped, Ethan had no idea which one of them made the first move; they crashed into one another in a tangle of teeth and heat, both instinctively fighting for dominance. The other wolf was aggressive in a way that bordered on feral. He instantly knew he was a true wolf, a born wolf like himself. Ethan grew up sparring turned wolves and it was usually easy to get the upper hand. But this wolf? Ethan didn't have practice fighting a pure blood like himself.

He countered each of Ethan's attacks with sharp nips and snarls.

It was little more than luck that finally let Ethan win. It was clear this wolf was stronger than him and add to the frightening feralness of his behavior, it made Ethan pretty fucking nervous; but his mate clearly wasn't used to fighting other animals with human sentience, and he didn't think to hide it when he began to feel fatigue. Ethan was trained to look for those tells and exploit them whenever possible, and he'd as good as won the moment he spotted the slight shake of his opponent's legs. He simply held back his own strength, let the other wolf tire himself a little more with pointless wrestling, and then pounced swiftly, pinning him to the ground with his jaws fixed carefully around his throat.

Despite his forced submission, Ethan could smell a sudden spike his mate's arousal. He couldn't help but want this. It was beyond their control, and far beyond any human ideas of top and bottom – they were already in the process of mating, and now they knew what roles they were going to play.

It was just a question of how to actually play them.

Ethan's wolf-brain wanted nothing more than to fuck – to force his way inside and take what was his – but now that he'd established his dominance he was left with some practical problems. Namely the fact that he couldn't fuck another alpha in this form; that would require preparation.

He nipped at the other wolf's neck again, frustrated, and just like that he shifted into human form beneath him.

It was an incredible show of submission, but maybe he had realized the same thing Ethan had – if they were going to finish this, they could only do it as men.

And the moment that the wolf shifted to his human form Ethan knew something was really, really wrong.

For one, he looked...like himself.

He looked like Ethan.

Seriously.

It was like looking at a more muscular, dirtier, tanner, pisser version of himself. The man's lips were curled back in a snarl, the lust still distinct in his eyes, and his arms-thick biceps practically shimmering in the low light of the moon-moving as he crossed his arms. The only thing that was glaringly different was that this alpha didn't have a jaw like a bicycle seat. Oh, and the scars. This man's face and part of his chest were bathed in battle scars. But it didn't take away how brutally handsome he was. In fact, it added to it.

Ethan followed suit immediately, his heart thudding in his chest. A sudden sense of vulnerability crashed into him, the opposite of what he should be feeling. He should be feeling dominate. But...nope.

The man's eyes widen slightly.

"What the fuck?" Ethan breathed, eyeing the man up and down, hands poised on either side of his head.

"We-" Ethan began.

"-look-" the man frowned.

"-the same," both men finished at the same time.

Now this was too fuckin' weird. Weirder than The Twilight Zone weird. For a second, Ethan really didn't know what to do. But the man had decided for him.

The wolf blinked at him, uncrossing his arms and shoving at Ethan's shoulders. Ethan nearly fell on top of him, his elbows giving way, but quickly scrambled back and to the side.

Moving up off the ground, they were suddenly facing each other, the warm air sweeping through the dusky air; Ethan swallowed, feeling the sweat trickle down his back, cooling him down. It was a sweet, sudden relief.

The man didn't say anything, just eyeing him. He had such an untamed wolf before. Hell, he'd never seen a full blood wolf before. He thought he was the only one.

Then, the wolf lunged and suddenly Ethan was sprawled onto his back with a full ass alpha wrapping his hands around his wrists and pinning him to the ground.

The move made Ethan's member jump, flooding with excitement as the move mixed their scents further, and the man's body covered his own. He smelled wild, like flowers and dirt and lust and the saltiness of sweat. He smelled feral.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man snarled in his face. "Why the fuck do you look like me?"

Ethan blinked a few times, trying to overcome the sex-crazed cotton of his brain. He really couldn't answer the second question, but he could answer what he knew to be true.

"Uh, I'm—" He tried for a smile. "I guess I'm your mate."

Fuck, this is weird.

The man's eyes – they were strikingly brown-so fucking similar, man-now that he was human – narrowed sharply.

"I don't have a mate."

Ethan couldn't help but raise his eyebrows incredulously. "Uh, okay. Um."

Ethan was at a loss for words.

Here he was with a guy that looked (scarily, fucking terrifyingly) like him.

The man swallowed and studied Ethan's face. He was still pinning Ethan to the ground, and the silence that stretched between them was stony and resentful.

"What's your name?" he finally said.

"Ethan."

"Your pack?"

"Washington."

His mouth twisted up in a surly smirk. "You're a long way from home."

"Yeah," Ethan said hesitantly. He had the feeling this guy didn't want to hear that Ethan had be on a road-trip, searching for... him. "What's your name?"

"Grayson."

"And your pack?" Ethan pressed.

Grayson's gaze dropped away, his full mouth pulling tightly at the corners. "I don't have one."

Ethan swallowed thickly. Well, shit.

Ethan wasn't sure how to take that. Every were had a pack; that was just how they operated. He'd heard stories of packs that drove members out for major, unforgivable infractions of their code, but he always assumed they were urban legends. The longer he stared at Grayson, the harder it was to believe he could have done something like that. Even he did have a reputation for scaring tourists.

"A lone wolf, huh?" Ethan said dryly.

A memory collected itself into Ethan's mind. A memory about him talking to an elder, about his mother. He was probably no older than fourteen. His mother was dead, though. He had asked her what would have happened if she had lived.

Ethan, did you know its tradition for a pack to keep the child of an unclaimed omega?

What do you mean?

I mean, if a pregnant omega wanders onto your land it is tradition for the pack to take care of them. Then, the omega gives their child to the pack as payment.

That's fucked.

Ethan, watch your tongue.

I'm sorry, Mary.

Grayson rolled his eyes at Ethan's question and stood up in one swift, graceful movement.

Even with the oddly antagonistic tone things had taken, Ethan couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. It was understandable that Grayson had developed that reputation for being a ferocious, dangerous predator. His entire body was muscular. He looked like he could rip a herd animal apart with his bare hands. His skin was a deep tan, burned darker in some places and lightly tanned in others. There were a few more scars on his ribs, and Ethan's eyes wandered to his face. There was a jagged scar down his left cheek, connecting to a smaller linear one near his jaw line. The scar softened near his sharp jaw line and deepened at the throat again, ending near his collarbone.

"Get up," Grayson said shortly.

Ethan did, slowly, intensely aware of the way Grayson's gaze raked over his body and feeling a slight flicker of embarrassment at his nakedness. It felt like he was being sized up and grudgingly admired at the same time.

Could this be...no, no. That's fuckin' crazy. He's dead.

Stillborn.

"Why are you here? This isn't your territory."

Ethan dusted his hands off and pulled himself up to his full height. He kind of liked Grayson's brusque, no-nonsense attitude. He smirked a little when Grayson reflexively tensed.

Who are you, really?

"This is neutral territory," he said evenly. "It doesn't belong to anyone. Which I'm guessing is why you're here."

A muscle in Grayson's jaw ticked. "Guess whatever you want."

They stared at each other in silence for what felt like several minutes. Grayson kept eyeing his face, frowning, and then glaring, like he couldn't land on one emotion. Ethan could see the subtle, viciousness in his eyes. Defensiveness. Grayson's nostrils flared. If Grayson smelt like mate to him, Ethan knew he smelt like mate to Grayson too. It was strange, Ethan thought, to feel so connected to someone who was a perfect stranger. A perfect stranger that looked too much like himself! He could tell Grayson longed to run off into the woods and leave him standing there, but he could also sense that Grayson couldn't bring himself to do it. Like it or not, he was as caught up in Ethan as Ethan was in him. He'd caught his mate's scent, and he would never again be able to rest without knowing that Ethan was safe, although it was it was very unsettling to him that not only was his mate another alpha, he also looked so much like him. A paler, slimmer, snarkier, tattooed, domesticated, bicycle jawed version of himself.

Ethan was the first to break the silence. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Who is your mother?"

"Excuse me?" Grayson said, caught off guard by the question. He seemed to straighten, rolling his shoulders back.

"Who's your mother?" Ethan repeated.

"Why?"

"Did she ever go to Washington?"

"Why?"

"Did she?"

Grayson set his jaw; his eyes traced over him, "She did. Once. Before I was born."

Ethan's heart was thudding in his chest.

"Do...was she an omega? Was she a lone wolf? A nomad. No pack. Like you?"

Grayson cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly, "Yeah. Why?"

Ethan's heart plummeted into his stomach.

I mean, if a pregnant omega wanders onto your land it is tradition for the pack to take care of them. Then, the omega gives their child to the pack as payment.

Grayson frowned.

"Where is she?" Ethan blurted out.

"Dead."

Ethan felt his heart seize as he pieced the puzzle together. It made so much sense. Why Grayson looked like him.

Had his pack kept Ethan as payment and let their mother and Grayson, who hadn't died like they said he had, go? Was he the payment?

A sense of raw, hard betrayal rushed through Ethan's body, making him tense up. Sensing the change in his demeanor, Grayson raised an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" Grayson grumbled.

"W-when did she die?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"When did she die?" Ethan repeated.

He could see Grayson swallow thickly, like he didn't want to answer him, "Six years ago."

Ethan turned him head, closed his eyes, and swallowed thickly.

They lied. They lied to me.

"Ethan?"

Ethan blinked and turned towards Grayson once again.

"We're twins."

Grayson blinked and eyed Ethan like he just said he was an alien sent to abduct him.

"What?" There was an edge of a snarl to his voice, a defensiveness to his posture as old as time.

"My mother...my pack told me that my mother died in childbirth. That I had a twin. He was stillborn. I...I think they lied to me. I think they kept me because I was the first born. They kept me as payment and let Mom take you and leave."

Grayson's eyes studied him as the wind softly blew through his filthy hair. His face was expressionless, the scar marred into his flesh standing out against his tan skin. Grayson did not say a single word.

"You don't believe me." Ethan said after a long, hard moment.

Grayson shook his head. "No. I believe you. My mom told me I had a brother...I just didn't think he'd end up being my fucking mate."

There was no sign of disgust to Grayson's voice. It was like it was a matter-of-fact.

After a couple minutes of extremely awkward silence on both of their ends, Grayson spoke.

"Follow me," Grayson said, walking past Ethan and heading into the brush.

"Where?"

Grayson paused, the muscles in his bare back tensing as he looked up at the sky.

"It's nearly dark," he said stiffly. He glanced back at Ethan. "You don't look like you have the energy to shift back. I have food and a place to sleep."

Ethan smiled at that, and Grayson made a small, impatient noise.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ethan said.

Wow, Ethan couldn't help but think. He's alive. He's feral as hell. But I'm not alone.

Grayson's eyes narrowed, but Ethan thought he saw a faint flash of amusement on his face before he took off through the trees, bare feet against the moist, dusky ground, Ethan trailing not far behind.

-

The cave Grayson led him to was warm and dry, spacious enough that they didn't need to stoop once they got past the entrance.

It had the feeling of a mostly human dwelling, which Ethan hadn't expected. There was a well-dug fire pit at the back, near a large crack that presumably let out smoke. A smooth, wide log next to it seemed to serve as a bench; behind it, a bundle of various-sized animal pelts formed a sleeping area. Several strips of dried meat hung from the far wall, along with some carved wooden bowls.

"This is where you live?"

Grayson lifted one of the pelts from the pile and draped it over Ethan's shoulders. Then, he wrapped one over his own shoulders.

"I said I'd feed you. I didn't ask for your thoughts on the decorations."

Ethan raised his hands apologetically. "No, I mean, I like it. It's cozy. Not really what I was expecting."

Apparently mollified, Grayson grabbed another pelt and held it out; it seemed to be made of several rabbit skins that were held together by fine rows of hand-stitching. Ethan took it gratefully, wrapping himself in the warm fur and sitting on the bench, double wrapped.

They fell into an almost companionable silence as Grayson moved around the cave, pulling bowls from their hooks and sorting through his food supply. It gave Ethan a chance to take in the smaller details of his surroundings, which revealed more about Grayson than their conversation had – he spied a small stack of books next to the bedding, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on top of them, and a tinderbox next to the wood pile.

It was clear his twin wasn't entirely feral. He had some connection to civilization, which made his presence out in the woods an even greater mystery. Most werewolves-even pure bloods- made a point of distancing themselves from their base animal natures, taking pride in their ability to integrate with humans. He'd never met one who willingly – and happily – lived as though the wolf were his natural state.

Had their mother raised him like this? To be wild? Untamed? One-with-nature?

Ethan leaned over to pull a few logs off the pile and arrange them in the fire pit, not wanting to seem entirely useless. Grayson turned around abruptly when Ethan knocked the flint against steel, looking surprised.

"What?" Ethan said, blowing on the ember that formed when the spark landed in the smaller twigs. It took a minute, but it caught hold, sending up a spiral of smoke. "This isn't my first outdoors experience, you know."

Grayson looked dubious, but he grunted appreciatively when flames began to lick at the logs and crackle quietly. He handed Ethan a bowl of dried meat and berries, then sat on the ground next to the log.

Grayson didn't seem to be interested in small talk, so Ethan entertained himself as he ate by studying his twin's movements and body language. Grayson was more subtle about it, but Ethan could tell he was doing the same thing – he kept darting looks at him from the corner of his eye, catching Ethan in a stare more than once.

He finally turned and stared back, eyebrows lifting. "What."

Ethan shook his head and smiled slightly. "Nothing. I just like looking at you."

Grayson eyed him with a subtle amused expression, then tilted his head slightly, like he was giving Ethan permission. "Okay."

"How long have you lived out here?"

"A long time. Years. Since forever. I don't know exactly how many now."

Twenty-six, thought Ethan. You're twenty-six years old, Grayson. Just like me.

"Years?" Ethan repeated. "With Mom?"

Grayson shrugged. "You make it sound like a bad thing."

Ethan blinked. If Lisa had been gone for six years...that meant Grayson had been completely alone for little over a half a decade.

Grayson continued: "I'm not totally alone. The woods are full of animals, there's just no people."

Ethan swallowed.

"And, yeah, with Mom. Until she died," Grayson said, his mouth screwing up like the phrase was so new to him. It was odd sharing her with someone else. It had always been Lisa and Grayson. Just the two of them.

Ethan tried to imagine a life that isolated, all alone, but his mind could barely grasp the idea. He'd run with his pack his entire life. (Now they didn't feel like his pack anymore. Fuckers. They stole him away from his mom. They had stolen him from Grayson.)

But Ethan couldn't deny being in a pack was like being in an extended family in some ways, and a community in others. Their numbers totaled in the low thousands, but that was comprised of several smaller groups throughout the territory. Ethan knew his own by scent, which gave him a sense of familiarity and kinship with any pack member he encountered, no matter how distantly they were related.

But it never filled that gapping, perpetual hole his heart. A hole that had kept him up at night, had kept him wondering.

And now I know why...

And the friendships he had with other turned werewolves– those were precious to him. He grew up tumbling through the woods with Emma and Kyle as cubs, shared their human lives in high school and college. There was a time he thought he would one day take Emma as his mate, but he was present when his two friends felt that call for one another and succumbed to it. He was happy for them, sharing in their joy at being mated, and he regularly visited them now that they had their own brood.

Pack was everything.

"Aren't you lonely?"

"No," Grayson said simply.

Ethan didn't hear any defensiveness in his tone, or sense wariness in his scent. Grayson honestly seemed to have no interest in the idea of human interaction, which made their current situation somewhat complicated.

"You get what this means, right?" Ethan ventured. "That...that we're mates. Do you...do you know what a mate is?"

Grayson cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Ethan. I know what a mate is. I'm not a fucking dumbass. Do you have amnesia?"

Ethan's face warmed slightly, and he shrugged.

"Uh. My bad. Fuck. You," Ethan paused, licking his lips. "Do you think it's weird that we're mates? Are you mad?"

He only asked because he sensed that Grayson's demeanor had turned a tad bit sour. Would Grayson want him in his life being all feral and a total recluse and all?

Grayson looked at the fire, falling silent for so long Ethan thought he wasn't going to answer at all.

"I take care of myself. I don't depend on others and I don't have dependents. It's survival. If you're asking how I feel about suddenly having a mate, the answer is no, I'm not happy."

He paused again, glancing over at Ethan. "But I'm at the mercy of instinct as much as anyone in our situation. Towards you I feel – attachment. And that alone is alarming."

Ethan swallowed thickly.

"But I'm glad we found each other...again. It's strange to look at you."

Ethan wasn't sure if he should be relieved that these new, overwhelming feelings were reciprocated, or upset that Grayson clearly didn't want to feel them.

"I was looking for you," Ethan admitted. "I mean, I didn't know you were my long-lost twin and all, but I knew you were my mate. That's why I'm here. I sensed that I had a mate, and that I was never going to find it back home, so... I dropped out of school and hit the road."

Grayson looked at him curiously, almost in spite of himself. "School?"

"Law school. My pack's right outside Seattle."

"Law school," Grayson echoed. "So you don't just live the human life. You're making it your job to uphold their codes and customs."

The way Grayson said it threw Ethan off completely. He didn't seem happy about the fact. Like, at all. In fact, there was an edge of bitterness that sent Ethan's teeth on edge. So, his brother clearly didn't like humans. Huh.

"Well I'm not exactly a choir boy," Ethan said, pulling the rabbit pelt tighter around his shoulders. "And I'm no flag-waver, either. I'm just good at debating. I, uh—" He grinned sheepishly. "I have a knack for telling when someone's lying, or when a certain line of questioning makes them nervous. It's uncanny."

Grayson snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet."

He shook his head and looked down at contents of his bowl. "So you're the knight-errant, on a quest for his lady. I hope our situation here has taught you to be careful what you wish for."

Ethan chewed a strip of meat slowly. "Why do you think we're mates? Why would Luna do that?"

At the name of the moon goddess, Grayson's eyes traced over his face.

"I mean, of all people, why – us, for each other? I've never even really been attracted to guys before. And you're my twin."

"It's providence. Determined by the same power that gave us our gift of change."

"Luna, I know," Ethan said quietly, remembering his own pack's myths. He frowned suddenly. "Wait, who taught you that? Did Mom...?"

"Yes," Grayson cut in smoothly. He held up his last berry, studying it in the firelight before popping it in his mouth. "Yeah, she taught me that."

"What was she like?" Ethan ventured to ask.

Grayson set his bowl down on the floor of the cave and shifted, folding his legs gracefully and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Brave. She was fearless. Kind. Protective. Mom said she was kicked out of her pack a lot time ago. For carrying us. For getting pregnant in the first place. Her people were strict traditionalists, and they kicked her out. Before you ask, I don't know about Dad. She refused to tell me. She raised me to live this way. That's the only way you can be free, Ethan. You live like the wolf. The wolf protects you. I tired," he paused, "I tried integrating into civilization after she passed. I couldn't. Everyone's so...tiresome. Humans smell fucking awful—" He broke off and gave a jerky shrug, leaving Ethan to fill in the blanks: as hard as life would be for a reclusive guy in his early twenties that had lived in the woods all his life, it would be ten times harder for one learning how to control the ability to turn into a predatory beast with little to no prior help. Ethan could tell that Grayson had issues with anger. He couldn't imagine what that must've been like trying to pretend to be human.

"I'm no stranger to civilization, I just don't like it. I enter it on the odd occasion when I need supplies – thread, medicine, tools I can't make. And I like books. It took me a long time to read. Mom says I have Dy- dysle..."

"Dyslexia?"

"Yeah."

Nothing could have prepared Ethan for the intensity of the feelings that burned in his chest right then. He could feel every mixed emotion Grayson experienced as he related that story – the anger, the shame, the resentment. His anger. He even felt the warm flicker of fondness that came when he mentioned books. It was like there was an open channel between them, exposing everything Grayson hid with his short, blunt sentences and flinty tone.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the answering emotion sparked in Ethan, for hot on the heels of that empathy was an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. He wanted to lock those private parts of Grayson away for good, make sure no one else ever saw them or sensed them; he wanted to protect Grayson from ever being hurt again – and even more, he wanted to snap the bones and taste the blood of anyone who dared try.

It was crazy. Like Grayson, the solitary predator who had no need for human contact, couldn't take care of himself just fine. It was obvious Grayson could care for himself. Way better than Ethan could out in this wild terrain.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said quietly, looking down at his hands.

He didn't need to glance up to know that Grayson's hackles suddenly raised; it made a frisson of tension cut through the air.

"The person here to be pitied is you, I think," Grayson said neutrally. "I'm used to this life. I enjoy it. Your mated to somebody who lives it."

And mates mate for life. You are stuck with me.

Grayson didn't have to say it for Ethan to know it, to realize it. Deeply. Truly. It was in his eyes.

I wish you could've felt love. Love of many people. A pack. A family more than one. I wish they would've let you and Mom stay. I wish they hadn't kept me like some piece of traded property. I wish you hadn't had to be alone and crazy for these last 6 years...

"Doesn't matter," Ethan argued. It was true, even though the rational part of his mind was surprised to hear him say it. "I wanted to find my mate, and I did. And my twin, too. That's all that matters."

"You have a strange way of looking at things," Grayson said, prodding at the fire with a stick. He shot Ethan a wry look. "I can't decide if you're trying to be kind or trying to be stupid, Ethan."

Ethan couldn't help but grin ruefully. "Maybe I'm a little of both."

Grayson's mouth twitched into an answering smile. "That's my current theory."

"Anyway, it could be worse," said Ethan, encouraged by the return of Grayson's good humor. "You could've killed me on the spot."

Grayson shrugged, "Sure."

"I'm glad," said Ethan, tearing another bite off his last meat strip. "Although it's kind of weird that you're living in a cave and letting the local townspeople think you're a vicious, bloodthirsty animal."

Grayson looked amused. "Is that what they think?"

"Aren't you?"

Grayson shrugged. "I make the occasional appearance when campers stray too close to my den. I've never attacked humans, though."

"I know," Ethan said quietly.

Grayson didn't feel like the type of wolf to feed on humans.

They looked at each other for a long moment, drifting into silence as the fire snapped and popped in front of them. It was strange to feel content just studying the face of the man who had once been a stranger not so long ago but Ethan thought he could probably stare at Grayson for hours, maybe days.

It was Grayson who finally broke the spell, reaching out to take Ethan's empty bowl and rising to his feet in one smooth, fluid motion.

"I don't know what kind of schedule you keep, but I turn in early on nights I don't need to hunt." He set the bowls near a small basin of water and moved to the sleeping area, shaking out the pelts to make it larger. "We're safe from predators in here. The fire won't die for a while, and this location is isolated. The animals around here know this territory is claimed, anyway."

"Right," Ethan said absently.

A swift twist of heat blossomed in his belly as he watched Grayson arrange the pelts. Maybe it was the implication of sleeping there together, or maybe it was just the way he carried himself – his movements were deliberate and swift.

The idea of mating entered Ethan's head. The fire was sweet in him. Grayson's back instantly stiffened at the clear scent of his mate's blooming arousal.

The thought crashed over Ethan, making his pulse spike and his vision swim. He wanted to claim him; instinct stole over Ethan's senses, whispering that he must claim. No amount of claiming would ever be enough, not with Grayson. Not with his mate.

Grayson suddenly went still, freezing where he knelt on the floor of the cave. It took Ethan a moment to realize that his thoughts made his cock swell hard, that his scent must be broadcasting his burst of arousal.

"Come here," he said lowly.

Grayson darted a glance at him, his eyes shadowy; he knew exactly where Ethan's mind was at. He was probably even feeding off Ethan's desire, picking up on the flare of possessiveness that licked through Ethan's limbs. His cock bobbed stiffly between his legs as he shrugged off the pelt and slid to the floor of the cave. Grayson's whole body tensed, but he didn't move away. He met Ethan's gaze, holding his ground as a dark, smirky expression flitted over his face.

"You want to mate me, E?" Grayson asked, coolly.

E.

That was new. Ethan found that he really liked the nickname.

"I think you want me to," Ethan replied, glancing at Grayson's cock. It was already thickening, flushing full and hard, and it twitched under Ethan's gaze.

There was something teasing about the way Grayson rocked back on his haunches, clearing inviting Ethan to take his best shot.

So, he did.

As soon as he got a hand on Grayson's shoulder, they were tumbling down in a flurry of elbows and muscle, wrestling across the pelts and the soft dirt and dried, dead leaves of the floor of the cave. It was the kind of play Ethan hadn't indulged in since he was a cub, but there was a new edge to the nips at his skin and the weight of the body and jabbed and shoved and pinned him.

He found himself laughing when Grayson tackled him down, the fat length of his cock grinding warmly against Ethan's hip. Adrenaline smashed headlong into his arousal, leaving his whole-body buzzing and alert, his senses all attuned to Grayson. He lifted his hips, rutting against Grayson's cock and using the momentary distraction to flip them over.

Grayson chuckled against his ear, low and rough. "Not bad for a domesticated animal."

Ethan panted lightly, rubbing at the dip between Grayson's collarbones. "Bet I could domesticate you."

The noise Grayson made then was sharp – a throaty growl that had Ethan's cock throbbing even as he was grappled over onto his back.

There was no getting out of Grayson's hold this time; his grip was vice-like, pinning Ethan with a strong, capable arm over his chest and a knee against his thigh.

He flashed his teeth in a grin, eyes glittering dangerously, and his point was all too clear: Grayson's submission wouldn't be easy. Physically he was equal – maybe even superior, because right then Ethan had no choice but to show him his belly, entirely at Grayson's mercy.

For some reason that thought did nothing to diminish the steady throb of arousal under Ethan's skin. He liked it, he realized with hazy surprise – he liked that his mate was this strong, strong enough to pin Ethan down and just take him.

Grayson seemed more interested in studying him, though. His gaze flickered over Ethan's face like he was taking in every detail; he tilted his head to the side after a moment, then leaned in to sniff curiously at Ethan's neck.

Ethan shut his eyes and waited for the tight press of teeth that would drive Grayson's point home and startled when it didn't come. Instead Grayson simply pressed a warm, dry kiss against Ethan's pulse, his mouth unnervingly soft.

Before Ethan could do more than swallow, Grayson dragged his nose over to the crease of an armpit, across Ethan's chest, then down to the heavy, warm weight of his cock. It was so stiff that it swayed between them, and there was already a pearly smear of precome where Grayson's weight had pressed the head of it against Ethan's stomach. Grayson nuzzled at it without hesitation, breathing deeply as he nosed down around Ethan's balls.

That alone was enough to make Ethan's mind unravel, but in that same moment he could smell Grayson's arousal spike in the air around him. Grayson was getting turned on from the smell of Ethan's member.

"You want that inside of you?" Ethan said lowly, reaching down to rub the soft bristles of Grayson's hair. His cock throbbed under the damp gusts of Grayson's, losing another dribble of precome.

Grayson gave a rough, feral little moan and nipped at the inside of Ethan's thigh. It wasn't a gesture of aggression, Ethan could tell; it was a helpless acknowledgment of how intense he felt and how badly he wanted exactly that.

He tensed nervously when Ethan moved to flip them back over, meeting Ethan's gaze with dark, flinty eyes. He wasn't big on talking at the best of times, but when instinct took over, he seemed beyond words entirely.

"Come on," Ethan coaxed, rubbing a hand over Grayson's shoulders. "I get it; you could rip my throat out. Just let me touch you."

Some of the tension went out of Grayson's body, enough that Ethan could ease him over on the furs. He stroked a hand down Grayson's side, petting him gently. Grayson still seemed wary, like he couldn't quite tell if he was giving up control of the situation – or maybe he just couldn't tell if he liked doing that.

"God, you're so—" Ethan didn't have a word for how his twin looked laying there in the fire light. He wasn't just hot, or sexy, or any other word that could be applied to a million other people in other situations. He was Ethan's mate, and he was wild and powerful and practically in heat over Ethan's cock. There was no way to describe what that did to him, or how the desire it stirred in Ethan's chest was uniquely tailored to Grayson.

Ethan's hand strayed over to rub at Grayson's stomach, tracing the line of dark hair under his bellybutton and then sliding up to pinch one of his nipples.

Grayson sucked in a sharp breath and made a quiet noise of surprise. His cheeks slowly flushed as Ethan watched, fascinated, and gave it another squeeze.

"You like that, huh?" he marveled, and leaned in to lick at the other one. He traced his tongue around the stiff little peak before giving it a warm suck, fighting the urge to grin when Grayson's hips jerked upwards. "Guess so, Gray."

Grayson seemed to really like the nickname.

He scraped his teeth lightly against the underside, and Grayson's fingers suddenly threaded through his hair, holding Ethan there as he arched up towards his mouth. It was all the instruction Ethan needed; he rubbed his tongue back and forth over that nipple until Grayson gasped again, his chest jerking under Ethan's mouth, then tugged at it with sharp little pulls of teeth.

When he finally pulled back, Grayson's entire face was faintly pink and damp with sweat.

"Roll over," said Ethan.

Grayson's mouth curled up on one side, his eyes suddenly seeming to focus on Ethan.

"That a command?" he said, voice gritty and rough.

Ethan smiled, knocking the back of his hand against Grayson's stomach in a playful slap.

"Think of it as a real friendly request."

Grayson's smirk deepened, but he flipped over, letting Ethan spread his legs and slide down between them.

"Show me," Ethan muttered, completely driven wild by his rut, by Grayson's rut, spreading Grayson open and breathing in deep.

It was a rich, powerful smell – the scent that was uniquely Grayson. It made Ethan whimper.

"I want you," Ethan kneaded his plump left ass cheek.

"Yeah," Grayson said, his voice low and harsh. "I want—"

He didn't seem able to finish that thought out loud, but he made a wounded noise when Ethan popped his thumb down and licked him there, right on his hole. The taste was bitter and salty and washed over Ethan with the same intensity that Grayson's smell does– flooding his mind with layers of meaning, with mine and mate and protect and always.

He was then stretched. Slowly. Passionately. Minutes passed.

Before he could process any further thought, Ethan slid up on his palms, mounting Grayson quickly and nudging his cock into that sweet, hot hole.

Grayson sighed when Ethan settled inside of him, groaning lowly when Ethan didn't pull back out. He just spread his knees wider, forcing Grayson's legs apart so he could get the head of his cock as deep inside of Grayson as possible.

"That feel good?" he whispered, leaning over Grayson's back to breathe the words just behind his ear. "Getting mated?"

The groan that came in response was deep and drawn out, almost like Grayson was drunk. He kind of was, Ethan realized – they were both awash in pheromones and raw, irrational instinct.

They moved without parting, Ethan's hips gently rolling with Grayson's while his cock stayed buried deep. He was teasing them both, but he wanted Grayson to savor the feeling of getting speared open, deep and unforgivingly; this is how they would mate as wolves. Ethan's cock would tie off inside, keeping him open and plugging up every shot of Ethan's seed.

He bit Grayson's shoulder as he finally began to move; it was slow, his saliva making it easier to thrust. Ethan was claiming him, his inner wolf was calming down, savoring the victory. He had his mate, a safe shelter, and all the time in the world to explore and care for him.

"Gray, I wanna get you like this under the moon. Give you my knot. You'd take it for me, wouldn't you?"

"Fuck," Grayson hissed, arching sweetly. Ethan growled and moved faster, giving him sharp, deep stabs.

"Yeah, you'd take it," Ethan panted erratically, lost to rut, straightening and gripping Grayson's hips. "You'd let me tie you to me, right, breed you for hours. That's all you want, huh? To feel me coming – right here?"

Something Ethan couldn't name, something buried deep in the recesses of his mind, knew just how to angle his thrusts the way Grayson craved. Grayson pushed back against him. His spine stiffened and his hole clenched around the base of Ethan's member, a wounded, ragged noise tearing out of him each time Ethan hit home.

The scent of Grayson's come hit Ethan's nose suddenly, rich and bitter as his untouched cock shot off under him. It made Ethan's balls throb sympathetically, pulling up tightly as Grayson gasped and groaned and snarled.

He leaned in, sliding an arm under Grayson and hauling him up on his knees. Grayson slumped back on Ethan's chest bonelessly, his cock losing another spurt of come that landed on Ethan's arm and smeared up his own stomach when Ethan reached to kiss his throat.

Grayson groaned and turned his face against the side of Ethan's neck, his lips moving in words that he couldn't quite give voice to; Ethan thought he could make out his own name between Grayson's raspy breaths, and it was that thought that made the tension in his body finally snap.

Time lost all meaning as he bred Grayson with a powerful thrust, moving with sharp, desperate plunges that pounded against that sweet spot and had Grayson shuddering and keening and snarling in his arms. There was no thought in Ethan's mind but how necessary this was, how much Grayson needed to be filled and made whole, marked up and claimed.

When the immediate, blinding intensity of it finally passed, he could feel a dribble of come already slipping out, sliding down to his balls; that's how full Grayson was.

Ethan glanced down at him and found Grayson already staring back at him, slumped back with his cheek against Ethan's shoulder. He looked a little shell-shocked, his face flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat, but that flinty, guarded look still shuttered his eyes.

"Hey," Ethan said weakly. He skimmed his hand down Grayson's chest and rested it low on his belly, right over the place he'd just unloaded in him.

Grayson made a small, vaguely impressed noise, his hole flexing sensitively around Ethan's half-hard cock.

"I think I know why you got mated with an alpha male," he said hoarsely, lifting his eyebrows.

"Why?" said Ethan. He was surprised to hear that his own voice was just as shot.

"'Cause you'd break a female." He touched Ethan's wrist, letting their hands overlap for a brief moment, then straightened up. "Get off me."

Ethan rolled his eyes and released him, pulling out carefully. He didn't make an effort to hide his interest as he watched Grayson crack his neck both ways, roll his shoulders, and slide over to a cleaner area on the pelts, but Grayson didn't seem to be paying him much attention. It took him a few minutes to arrange himself in the most comfortable sprawl possible, and another minute of lying there with his eyes shut before he acknowledged Ethan's presence.

"Well?" He opened one eye, peering at Ethan with an annoyed squint. "Are you going to get down here and sleep?"

Ethan's mouth twitched with amusement. Didn't Grayson want to take him back? Maybe he was too tired. Too spent.

As disagreeable as Grayson could be, Ethan actually found that he liked it; watching him wrestle with his irritable attitude and his unavoidable feelings of attachment was proving to be pretty entertaining, especially when the latter won out.

Ethan flopped down next to him, tossing a proprietary arm over Grayson's chest and nuzzling against his throat, where his scent was the strongest.

Grayson hesitated, a flicker of tension rolling through him, then turned to press his face against the top of Ethan's head.

It was only a few hours later that, sore and sweating, Grayson woke up with the intense need to mate again. To claim. He glanced down at Ethan sleeping on his belly beside him, his cheek pressed up against the warm pelt. He didn't hesitate to nudge him awake and once Ethan fully came into wakefulness, Grayson staring deeply into his eyes, practically heaving, Ethan knew what he wanted. What he needed. To claim him back.

"Okay," Ethan breathed.

Grayson spat on his fingers and shoved them down into the crack of his ass, finding his hole and rubbing the tip of one finger right into it. Ethan tensed, but spread his legs and tipped his ass up like he welcomed the invasion. It made Grayson's blood boil – yes, yes, of course he wanted it; this was his mate, and he was going to take everything Grayson had to give.

He kept one hand between his shoulder blades as he leaned in to spit right on his hole, working that finger in to the second knuckle. It was hot in there, hot and smooth and made for Grayson's cock to fill.

Grayson muttered nonsensically, popping his finger out from that ring of muscle and pushing two back in. He tried to move carefully, but instinct made him scramble to get deeper inside that tight, slick heat.

His twin squirmed and writhed under him, his sweet little hole squeezing Grayson's fingers rhythmically, but for all his bucking his scent was still heady with arousal. He smelled like the ripest wolf ever to go into heat, and every cell in Grayson's body ached with the need to bust his little hole open and fill him with seed.

This was his mate, even if it was an alpha – biology be damned, Grayson was going to fuck him full of come and rip the throat out of anyone who sniffed around him.

He was going to return the claim that Ethan had placed on him.

Grayson's cock was already so hard the knob was flushed dark red, all the veins standing up under the skin. He ground it against the curve of the Ethan's pale ass, noting the tattoo of a pineapple on his right ass cheek, as he drove another finger in, loving the way he gasped and arched in response. It was that sweet, needy noise that made Grayson yank his fingers back, spread him open, and shove the fat head of his cock right into him.

A whine of pleasure left Ethan's full lips; pure instinct was urging Grayson on, whipping his thoughts into a frenzy. He bottomed out in one push, barely pausing before his hips rolled and found a jerking, needy rhythm.

Ethan's hands scrabbled against the pelt, gripping it tightly, his ass flexing tightly as he hauled himself onto his elbows. For a second, Grayson was going to pull out, thinking Ethan was struggling to get away from him. But he wasn't struggling, Grayson realized after a moment – he was fucking himself back on Grayson's cock, meeting each rough thrust so each one landed deep. Their bodies smacked together loudly with each push, Grayson's tight, full balls knocking against the other's plump sac.

"Fuck," Grayson snarled. "Ethan. Ah, you feel so good. Gonna breed you so full—you're gonna be so round with our pups."

His mate just grunted in response, hot groans and guttural noises that seemed to get shoved out of him with every rut of Grayson's member.

It was nothing like the sex he'd had with humans. the few Grayson had ended up with in town when he was in his early twenties. His body knew it in a way his mind could barely comprehend; the rhythm they found seemed to sync with the pulse in his veins and the shuddering breaths of his mate. It felt just as good to fuck Ethan as it had to be fucked by him. It was the smell, Grayson realized; it was intoxicating, so rich he was half-drunk off it. Ethan smelled so good.

He could smell the precome dripping out his slit and the sweat prickling in his pits. He could smell the blood coursing through his veins, trapped in his cock. He could smell his need, his desperation, his shock and pleasure at being claimed back.

It made Grayson wish they were in pack territory just so he could know other werewolves smelled this coupling, this claiming – knew that Ethan had enough trust in him to be taken in such a way. An intimate, valuable way. Just like he had let Ethan. It went full circle.

"Ah. E," he breathed again, hand scrabbling around to grab Ethan's member.

It only took a few jerks before he came, spattering his load right there on the soft fur. The smell of it hit Grayson in a rush, making his own cock throb and drool as his mate's body squeezed around it.

Ethan nearly went limp when that orgasm faded, but something – Grayson sensed it was his own savage rut that kept him on his knees, pushing back against Grayson's short, demanding thrusts.

Ethan said nothing, only letting out a deep, keening noise when Grayson bit his neck and shot his load. It came out in thick, heavy pulses, each little rut of Grayson's hips nudging it deeper into him, pushing it up where it belonged.

Grayson slumped on top of him, pressing Ethan against the den floor and rubbing his face against the side of his neck. He didn't care if his mate was getting smudged with animal pelt and his own come – the combination of those earthy scents made Grayson's cock twitch pleasantly.

Long before Grayson his fill of nuzzling and smelling and indulging those thoughts, his twin came to life, climbing out of his pleasure, and all but threw him off. He flipped them over easily, pulling himself off Grayson's cock and pinning an arm across Grayson's chest.

But Ethan didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He just smiled lazily, the sweat clinging onto his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead. Ethan turned his head and nuzzled down onto Grayson's chest. Soon enough they both drifted into sleep, curled into each other's arms, satisfied.  
-  
The sun was up when Ethan woke, dappling the wilderness beyond the mouth of the cave with warm yellow light.

When he woke he found that Grayson was sleeping next to him, curled on his side with his back to Ethan's chest. The fire had burned down to ash, but at some point in the night Grayson had pulled a pelt over them, and Ethan's skin was warm where it pressed against Grayson's beneath it.

Grayson stirred lightly when Ethan shifted up on his elbow, but he seemed to drift back to sleep when Ethan merely studied him.

The frenzy that had gripped Ethan the night before had faded into something calm and steady, but his chest still squeezed pleasurably from the mere sight of Grayson's face. There was something about the lines of it – the sharp angle of his strong jaw, the swooping curves of his dark eyebrows, the wide, plush bow of his mouth – that made Ethan wish he could he could draw or sculpt and capture it forever.

Call him a blatant narcissist, but Ethan loved looking at him, especially when Grayson was sleeping. He was so still, so peaceful.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about his face, though, was the way it was scarred. The widest scar that ran down his cheek looked to be from a swipe of claws. Ethan peered closer, having not noticed the other small, less defined ones, very unlike the long one that curved down his throat. The smaller, silvery nicks were harder to make out, catching the light above one eyebrow and along the curve of his jaw.

It made Ethan's heart ache to think of Grayson alone out here, holding off other predators and competing for prey. That was why pack was so important; they looked out for each other. It went against their nature to be solitary – even if there wasn't immediate danger to worry about, their kind thrived on communities and activity.

Why did they separate us?

If Ethan were home right then he'd be puttering around his apartment with a cup of coffee, getting ready for class. The morning news would be humming in the background, mixing with the sounds of city traffic outside; Emma might call and make him promise to swing by that afternoon to give his thoughts on her latest home improvement project, or help her take the kids to the park. His day would be full of conversation and responsibilities, friends and classmates and loved ones, and by the end he'd only have the energy each a microwave dinner and watch some TV before passing out and starting it all over again the next day.

The only noise in the cave came from a few birds outside, and the only other person for miles was the one dozing next to him.

A part of Ethan still yearned to be in pack territory despite what they'd done, but he was surprised to find that another, deeper part of him almost relished the solitude. He and Grayson weren't alone – they were alone together, which was completely different. There were no other werewolves around to so much as catch his mate's scent, and even though they claim they had laid on one another was irrevocable, that idea still soothed a selfish, possessive corner of his heart.

Ethan lost track of time as he watched Grayson sleep; it wasn't until the pressure of his bladder grew too intense to ignore that he finally left their makeshift bed and padded out into the sunshine.

The air was warm with Indian summer despite the early hour, and after he relieved himself, he shifted into his wolf form and explored the area around Grayson's cave. Several other animals were already up and about – he made out a few different kinds of birds in the trees overhead, and watched a family of deer pass by in the distance – and it occurred to him that Grayson had been right, in a way. The forest had other inhabitants and its own busy rhythm of life, even if it didn't have other people.

He was sniffing around some blackberry brambles when he caught the scent of a squirrel, and spotted it roaming around nearby. As a kid he'd loved the simple, pointless pleasure of chasing them through the woods, and after a moment's hesitation he went ahead and indulged himself, crouching low and stalking it through the bushes.

It froze when Ethan finally crept into its line of sight, its tail twitching nervously, then darted away. Ethan chased after it, hot on its heels all the way to the cleared-out area in front of Grayson's cave. The squirrel scurried up one of the trees there, perching on a safely distant branch and chattering down at him merrily.

Ethan was tempted to change forms again and climb after it, just to really throw his new buddy for a loop, but the air suddenly shifted and a familiar, sweet scent distracted him. He turned, following it unconsciously, and found Grayson standing at the mouth of the cave.

A reddish-brown pelt was wrapped around his naked shoulders, and a breeze ruffled his sleep-mussed hair. The wry, fond expression on his face was one Ethan recognized, a sign that Grayson was in good humor.

"Meeting the neighbors?"

Ethan barked, short and happy, and caught a flicker of a grin on Grayson's face before he shifted into the sleek, dark-furred wolf Ethan first met, almost identical to his own except the scars marring his face. He bounded over and nipped playfully at the side of Ethan's neck, then bolted off into the trees.

Ethan tore after him, but Grayson was far more elusive prey than the squirrel had been – he led him deep into the woods, taking a path that seemed entirely random, though Ethan picked up layers of his scent at every turn. He obviously knew where he was going and made the trip often.

When they had romped almost a mile away from the cave, Grayson suddenly veered right, stopping short on the bank of a river. It wasn't particularly wide, but it looked deep; a steady current led it over a steep, rocky drop-off a few feet away.

Grayson yipped, crouched, then broke into a sprint and leapt right over the side of the ridge.

Ethan bolted to the edge just in time to see Grayson shift into his human form mid-air – arcing with all the sleek grace and muscle of a competitive diver as he landed in the pool below the waterfall.

He grinned up at Ethan when he surfaced, giving a low, mocking series of whistles.

"Here, E!" he called, splashing away when Ethan dove in after him.

The water was cold but not frigid, and the shock of it felt delicious on Ethan's human skin. He let himself sink all the way to the bottom before he shot back up to the surface and shook his hair from his eyes.

"So, I take it this is your version of morning coffee?"

Grayson flicked water at him and shrugged, smiling. "Wakes you up, doesn't it?"

"Definitely," Ethan agreed.

Grayson stretched his arms out and floated onto his back, letting the swirling water drift him around the pool. He looked younger with his hair slicked down around his face – or maybe it was just because he seemed genuinely happy and relaxed for the first time since they met.

It occurred to Ethan as he ducked under again that Grayson was sharing something with him, something he obviously enjoyed. There weren't many creature comforts to be had out here, and the swimming hole was so secluded Grayson was probably the only one who knew it existed – but he'd shown it to Ethan, and if the placid look on his face was anything to go by, he didn't seem to mind the company.

The thought warmed Ethan to his bones, though it wasn't enough to stop him from sneaking under his twin, grabbing his foot, and yanking him under the surface.

Grayson kicked at him as he sank down, but he grinned at Ethan through the bubbles that floated between them.

"Asshole," he huffed when they came up for air.

Ethan barely had time to suck in a deep breath before Grayson got a hand on the top of his head and dunked him, the sound of his laughter muffled by the loud roar of water.

By the time they climbed out on the bank, Ethan really did feel more alert and alive, his muscles all thrumming pleasantly.

Grayson shook his head, spraying water in either direction in a move that was pure canine and flopped down in a patch of sunshine. Ethan didn't wait for a gruff invitation this time – he just sprawled out in the opposite direction, resting his damp head on Grayson's side.

"Nice place you've got here," he said.

He felt Grayson's stomach move as he chuckled. "I'm glad you like it."

Grayson's fingers brushed over his forehead and down the side of his face, absently tracing the line of his jaw. Ethan smiled when they wandered over his chin and lips, Grayson's thumb rubbing lightly at his bottom lip. He caught it gently with his teeth and flicked his tongue against the soft pad; it tasted like the water they'd been swimming in, but he could feel the grooves of Grayson's thumbprint.

A warm, lazy tension began to well in his stomach, and he sensed that Grayson felt it, too; his scent wasn't as strong after that swim, but Ethan's nose could pick out the subtle shift that meant Grayson was interested.

He let the feeling wash over him, building in his limbs and stiffening his cock. There was a kind of hedonism in stretching it out, savoring the fact that he could satisfy that hunger whenever he wanted – that Grayson was right there, feeling it with him.

Grayson hummed, still playing with Ethan's bottom lip gently. The smell of his arousal gradually thickened, teasing Ethan's senses until he was fully hard and knew Grayson was, too.

He turned his face against Grayson's hip, kissing at the cut of muscle there before shifting over on his stomach to study his member.

It was thick and heavy, so hard that the sheath of skin around the head had slid down under the ridge. Veins criss-crossed down the length of the shaft, some thicker than others, and his balls were tight and full. The tip was flushed rosy-pink, a slightly darker shade than the blush Ethan saw in Grayson's cheeks the night before.

Ethan wanted to suck on it.

He'd never done before, not to anyone, but suddenly it was all he wanted – he had to swallow the rush of saliva that came just from imagining Grayson's thick, blood-warm member pushing into his mouth.

He took a steadying breath before he leaned in and traced the heaviest vein with his tongue, following its path all the way up to the tip. By the time he got there a glimmer of precome had formed in the slit, and Ethan licked at it, rubbing his tongue against it gently even after the strong, bitter taste was gone.

Grayson's breath hitched, his thighs going tense when Ethan rolled his tongue all the way around the smooth head. It wasn't until Ethan gripped the base and popped the tip of it right past his lips that Grayson seemed to totally get what was going on, and then he made a high, tight noise that sounded surprised.

Ethan shut his eyes and pushed his mouth lower, nostrils flaring around his heavy breaths. The weight of Grayson, hard and smooth on his tongue, was even better than he imagined. It was almost as good as fucking him – maybe it was as good, just different. He could smell Grayson's scent more than ever, the rich musk thick in his nose and the bitter, salty taste of precome and sweat on his tongue.

He couldn't hold back a small groan when Grayson's fingers wove through his hair, his nails scratching over Ethan's scalp. When Grayson's hips began to move, rocking his cock back and forth through the ring of Ethan's lips, a sharp wave of heat crashed over Ethan's entire body. There was something in his mind that warned it was wrong, that he was submitting, but there was also part of him that recognized how good it felt to give Grayson this pleasure.

This was Grayson's cock – his fat, flushed alpha-werewolf cock – but it was also the part of him that was the most sensitive, and Ethan was taking it deep in his mouth. It called up the same possessive, protective yearnings he'd felt since he first caught Grayson's scent, that overwhelming desire to swallow Grayson whole and keep him for himself.

He hollowed his cheeks and made a low, hungry noise as Grayson pushed deeper, nudging the head of his cock into Ethan's throat. Inexperience made him slurp around it, his muscles tensing to choke at the intrusion, but he forced himself to relax and let Grayson in.

He only pulled back when he sensed Grayson was close, pumping his fist at the base and teasing his tongue across the tip. The sweet, deep whimpering noises Grayson was making came faster, his fingers tightened in Ethan's hair, and then the slit flared open around his first shot of come.

It spattered over Ethan's lips and teeth, hot and thick; he barely had the chance to process that before the next two streaked across his cheek, his chin, and Grayson's own stomach. He hadn't anticipated liking this part, but the sudden smell and taste of Grayson's come was almost too much for his body to handle – a fierce flare of heat swept through him, leaving his nerves aglow and his hands shaking with need.

His lips caught around the neck of Grayson's cock as he gave the head a soft, cushy suck, earning himself another pulse of come that he swallowed down. He could imagine it settling warmly in his belly, the idea so hot and good that he pulled back and licked at the string of it still smeared on his chin.

"Ethan," Grayson groaned. "You—"

He broke off and shook his head, tugging on Ethan's hair – gently at first and then harder, until Ethan had no choice to slide up the length of his body and face him.

Grayson was still breathing hard, his eyes bright and wide. He looked as blown away as he had the last time Ethan fucked him, but there was something in his expression Ethan couldn't place. He stared for a long moment, his gaze searching, and then pressed his mouth against Ethan's in a kiss.

It was a shock to Ethan's system, and at first he nearly forgot how to respond – his lips parted clumsily as Grayson's tongue darted past to lick at the taste of his own come. It wasn't until their tongues brushed together, velvety and slick, that Ethan snapped to attention and gripped Grayson's face. The taste of his mouth was good in a way Ethan hadn't even imagined – as unique as his scent and no less delicious.

Grayson rolled them over in the leaves until he was sprawled across Ethan's chest, clutching a clumsy handful of Ethan's hair as he explored him. His tongue was curious and deliberate in the path it took, flicking over the even ridges of Ethan's teeth, the sensitive inner skin of his cheeks, and the corners of his lips that still tasted sourly of himself.

It was somehow more intimate than anything else they'd done, made all the more amazing because Grayson had initiated it. Each warm, damp drag of lips and tongue and teeth left Ethan arching up against him, his fingers stroking mindlessly through the wet ends of Grayson's hair.

Before Ethan could entirely process what was happening, Grayson slid over and straddled his hips, a knee pressed to the ground on either side. He pulled away from the kiss after a moment, panting against Ethan's mouth.

"You need to mate me again," he said roughly, pressing a hand to Ethan's shoulder to steady himself as he sat up.

Ethan bit his swollen bottom lip, his hips jerking up just at the sound of those words. His entire body craved even more than usual – sinking into Grayson as deep as he could, touching him there where no one else had been.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed, hands curling around Grayson's waist.

Grayson didn't move into position, though; he pushed two fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, then reached behind himself and – Ethan sucked in a sharp breath, going dizzy when he realized Grayson was fucking himself open on them.

If it was uncomfortable, his face didn't show it. He stared down at Ethan with the same hot-eyed, intense expression he'd given him after coming, his cheeks pink with exertion and his jaw set tightly. Ethan slid his hands down until he was cupping Grayson's ass, gently pulling it open and letting Grayson get those fingers in as deep as he could.

Grayson shut his eyes as he twisted his wrist, the muscles of his shoulder and arm all flexing with the effort. He looked so hedonistic, Ethan probably could have blown his load just watching him – and just knowing how badly he wanted to get mated.

"Gray," he whispered, fingernails digging into Grayson's skin.

It made Grayson's eyes snap open and his lips twist up, but he didn't answer. He just pulled his fingers free with a quiet, slick pop, and reached further down to grab Ethan's cock, dragging the head of it right up to his slippery little hole.

He was tighter than he'd been the last time, but he took the entire length in one easy slide, sitting on it with his full weight. Ethan blew out a slow, steadying breath, his legs shaking from the effort of not thrusting up into that sweet heat. It was clear Grayson was the one in control here, no matter whose dick was in who at the moment – and seeing Grayson in control was so hot that Ethan couldn't bring himself to argue.

Grayson's mouth fell open when he began to move, the flush in his cheeks spreading down his neck and chest as his hips found a deep, grinding rhythm. His ass tensed and flexed under Ethan's hands each time he lifted up, just as his hole pulled hungrily around Ethan's cock. It was overwhelming, how good it felt to have Grayson give it up like that – so desperate for Ethan he was taking what he wanted.

"So good," Ethan muttered, watching him through eyes narrowed to slits. "Just like that – getting me in there so deep."

Grayson leaned in, bracing one hand on the ground by Ethan's head and ducking down to nip at his mouth. The change in angle made his strokes shorter, so the fat tip of Ethan's cock was just rubbing relentlessly at the same deep place inside of him; Ethan knew from the way Grayson had shuddered and growled when Ethan pounded at that same spot before that he loved feeling it there.

Sure enough, Grayson's hole clenched responsively as he moaned into the kiss. It was sloppier than the ones they'd shared earlier, Grayson's tongue rolling against Ethan's in a hungry, unforgiving slide. Ethan's stomach began to tremble when Grayson's teeth tugged at his bottom lip, but it wasn't until Grayson gave his tongue a sweet, sharp suck that Ethan's cock jerked and began to come.

Their slow rhythm didn't falter even when Grayson hissed sharply, signaling that he felt those hot, deep pulses of seed. He met Ethan's gaze, his eyes blazing with primal pleasure.

When Ethan finally slumped, his nerves still faintly throbbing with the last of his pleasure, Grayson eased back and collapsed next to him.

"Wow," Ethan huffed, staring sightlessly up at the canopy of trees.

Grayson hummed his agreement, scratching lazily at his stomach. Ethan turned his head and looked at him, amused to find that Grayson not only seemed fucked out and content, but also vaguely smug. It was a good look for him.

"I need to bathe again now," Grayson said after a few minutes, when Ethan's breathing had evened out and his pulse was no longer hammering.

He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders so his spine popped, and startled when Ethan's hand flew out and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't," Ethan said. He rubbed his thumb around to the hollow of Grayson's wrist, where he could feel the dips and rises of veins. "I like being able to smell it on you."

Grayson swallowed, but he raised an eyebrow. "Smell what, exactly?"

"Me." A faint flush rose in Ethan's face, but he didn't look away. "My claim on you."

He didn't miss the slight shiver that went through Grayson's body, but he didn't miss the way his shoulders tightened, either.

"You know, you're marked the same way," said Grayson. His gaze raked down Ethan's sprawled form, lingering. "I can smell myself all over you. Any other wolf would scent it, too, and know you belong to another alpha."

"I know," Ethan said, his grip loosening and his fingers drifting up the inside of Grayson's arm. "I like that, too."

"It really doesn't bother you? Knowing that someone might think of you as another wolf's omega?"

"Not really. I'm pretty confident I could dominate anyone who wanted to challenge me. And anyone who caught your scent – well, they'd know what kind of alpha you are. No one would be stupid enough to fuck with your mate."

No one would be dumb enough to fuck with me now. Not with you around, Gray.

Even as he said it, a fresh flicker of heat licked at Ethan's sensitive nerves; it was an odd combination of pride, admiration and possessiveness. He gave his twin a small smile. "I actually really like being your mate."

And I'm so fucking happy you're in my life. I'm so happy I'm not alone anymore. I'm so glad that hole that I've been feeling since forever didn't swallow me whole and alive.

Grayson didn't answer right away, and they just looked at each other for a few minutes.

"We should get moving," he said abruptly, pulling out of Ethan's grasp. It was only then that Ethan realized Grayson had been absently stroking Ethan's arm in an echo of the way Ethan was touching him.

"It's already mid-day."

"What, do you have an afternoon meeting?"

Grayson snorted. "Believe me, it's not all chasing squirrels and skinny-dipping out here. There's plenty of work to be done."

He shifted forms before Ethan could reply, nudging his cold wolf-nose against Ethan's bare side and trotting a few feet away. He looked back expectantly, giving Ethan no choice but to sit up with a grumble, change form, and follow.

-

As surly and curt as Grayson was, he made a surprisingly good teacher. Ethan hadn't expected that.

The work of the day all required a level of mountain man naturalism that Ethan simply didn't have, but Grayson seemed to find his clumsy ineptitude amusing. He merely smiled and showed him the right way to do the task – be it checking on the old metal traps he'd set up to catch rabbits, skinning what they found there, or preparing the meat to be dried.

He didn't even seem fazed when Ethan boggled at the idea of catching fish with his bare hands.

"What do you mean, with my hands?"

Grayson lifted his eyebrows and threw him a puzzled look. "I mean with your hands. Those big things at the ends of your arms? It's easy."

That had been an overstatement, but Ethan soon found that there was entertainment value in watching Grayson – he practically radiated quiet, smoldering intensity as he stood in the water and waited for his prey.

"This is insane," Ethan said from the riverbank. "Not to mention totally fucking impossible. Can't you just whittle yourself a fishing pole, or something?"

Grayson didn't even look at him; his attention had narrowed to the water right in front of him. Ethan watched, fascinated, as he suddenly lunged and pulled a wriggling fish out of the water. He smirked and tossed it on the bank, where it flopped around next to Ethan.

"It's all in the fingers. Come on, I'll show you."

By the time they trudged back to the cave, Ethan's arms were sore and he was chilled to the bone. The look on Grayson's face when he'd finally snatched a fish of his own from the river, though – that had been so warm and fond and proud, Ethan would have happily stood knee-deep in water all night to see it again.

When Grayson cleaned the fish and built a fire, Ethan allowed himself the pleasure of pawing through his small library. It was an odd collection, ranging from tattered paperback novels to sturdy hard-covered philosophy.

"Tom Sawyer?" Ethan said, holding up the book that topped the pile.

"I like adventure stories."

Ethan wasn't able to bite back a laugh. "Seriously? Your life is an adventure story."

"I guess it might seem like that to someone else. To me, it's just... life."

One side of his mouth ticked up as he shrugged and went back to his work, but for some reason Ethan couldn't look away, suddenly struck with how much he truly loved Grayson.

He'd spent his entire life expecting to bond with a mate that was curvy and soft and smooth, but now that he had Gray, he couldn't imagine being happy with anything else. The more time he spent in Grayson's company, the less that seemed to matter – and not because there was any mistaking Grayson's masculinity. He had a pretty face, sure, but beyond that he was all sharp angles and thick hair; his hands were strong and blunt, his muscles were thick and toned.

That's what made it so hot; Grayson wasn't supposed to be an omega, but he became one for Ethan. He was built to fuck and fight and dominate – but instead he let Ethan spread him open. And it was hot, too, how he'd let Grayson dominate him, let him mount him on those soft pelts and use his raw, pure strength to take him, whispering huskily in his ear how good Ethan would look with his pups in his belly, swollen and pregnant.

Grayson's words by the waterfall had nagged at him throughout the afternoon – Someone might think of you as another wolf's omega.

Why would that matter?

As much as he mulled them over, he couldn't quite figure out why Grayson would care about that. The man was a total misanthrope – it had taken hours of work for Ethan to get into his good graces, and Grayson was biologically obligated to like him, and, plus, they were identical twins. What's not to like? There was no reason for him to care that another, random wolf might think less of him for being mated to another alpha.

Unless, Ethan supposed, it was Grayson himself who thought that.

He sure hoped not.

It shouldn't come as that much of a surprise, given the way Grayson seemed to operate. For all his intelligence and dry humor, he was astonishingly lacking in self-awareness; he hadn't even realized that he was lonely, but his quiet pleasure at sharing things with Ethan suggested that some part of him did crave companionship.

Being a self-reliant alpha was his identity, something he embraced to ensure his survival, and he wouldn't know what to do with his desire to get pinned down and claimed if he thought it was at odds with that. Ethan had refrained from goading him too much about his submission as he had submitted just as equally to Grayson advances.

"You're handsome, you know that?" Ethan said suddenly. He'd been watching Grayson work for the better part of an hour, and he still hadn't grown bored with it – he was pretty sure he'd never get tired of studying the restrained power and absent grace of even his smallest movements.

Grayson made a face, his dark, curved eyebrows furrowing together. "Thank you."

He let his gaze run down Grayson's body, enjoying the way he shifted his weight and colored slightly under the attention.

"You helped catch dinner," he said flippantly. "You don't have to flatter me to get some of it."

"It's not flattery if it's true," Ethan grinned.

Grayson threw him a sour look. "You really enjoy the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

He shook his head as shifted up on his knees, tossing the small knife he'd been using on the fish by the water basin. The light caught on the backs of his thighs when he moved, and it took Ethan a second to realize why – it was that load of seed he'd left in him earlier. He'd been leaking it all day, and he was still leaking it, all because Ethan to him not to clean himself up.

That was so hot it hurt.

Before Ethan could think it through, he was on his knees and sliding in behind him, running his fingertips up the side of Grayson's arm.

"Can you wait until I finish this?" Grayson said, sounding both exasperated and amused. "I'm guessing you want to eat tonight."

"Nope." Ethan slid an arm around Grayson's waist and pulled him in tightly. His cock was already thickening, and that warm press of skin had him throbbing against the meat of Grayson's ass. "Now."

Grayson let himself be pulled back, resting his head against Ethan's jaw and humming when Ethan nuzzled him. "You're insatiable."

"And you like it."

A bright, warm flush abruptly swept across Grayson's face, his mouth twisting into an embarrassed scowl. Ethan didn't miss the way his scent shifted, though, warming the air around them as blood rushed to Grayson's cock.

"I thought we established that I can drop you pretty easy, E," Grayson said shortly, ducking away from Ethan's mouth. "Watch it."

Ethan smiled, unfazed.

"Doesn't mean you don't love getting fucked. Do you know how hot that makes me? How much I love just looking at you—" He nipped at the smooth, vulnerable skin of Grayson's throat, watching as it turned pink, despite his tan. "And knowing my alpha mate can't wait to give it up to me again?"

Grayson shut his eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Ethan, if you don't stop, I will bend you over and-"

"I mean, look at you," Ethan pressed, spreading one hand over Grayson's chest and sliding the other down between them to cup his ass. "You're more powerful than three alphas put together. But you're mine. You love me."

He pushed two fingers into Grayson's well-used hole and stroked his thumb over a pebbled nipple, smiling when Grayson rocked back against him.

"Ah, E." Grayson mumbled, feeling his mate attempting to drive them both into rut once more.

He nibbled at that soft spot on Grayson's neck, then kissed it. "Do I turn you on? I do—" Ethan's lips caught on the curves of Grayson's ear as he went in for the kill, "Don't you want me, Gray?"

The air went ripe with the smell of Grayson's sweat and precome, exposing his throb of arousal and the jolt of fear that came immediately after.

"Look at that. Your getting hard for me," Ethan breathed, feeling around inside Grayson and giving the bump in there a little rub. "I can smell it. I've tasted it. It's mine, the same way this place inside of you is mine."

Grayson's hole twitched around Ethan's fingers even as his knees instinctively slid further apart, giving him more access.

"Ethan."

He was wound up tighter than Ethan had seen him, the noises coming out between his hitched breaths purely animal. It was like Ethan was speaking directly to that vulnerable, sweet place inside of Grayson that loved to fell Ethan inside.

"This is what you want, right? Do you want to bend me over and take me again? Or do you want me to bend you over? How do you want it?"

There was a long, tense moment of silence before Grayson gave a jerky nod.

"I want you, Ethan. Fuck. I want you. Take me."

"I love you," Ethan breathed. The moment he said it he knew he couldn't take it back. It was true. Truer than anything else in his whole entire life.

A sweet little whimper stole past Grayson's lips when Ethan yanked his fingers out and nudged the head of his cock where they had been. His hole was stretched and slicked; it opened right up, taking him deep.

Ethan moved slowly, giving Grayson careful little thrusts until he writhed and pushed back for more.

"Ah, Gray, that's it," Ethan groaned, his arm flexing across Grayson's chest and holding him in place as his hips began to piston.

Grayson gasped when Ethan plucked at one of his stiff little nipples, making his chest jerk under Ethan's hand.

"Fuck," Grayson spat, the word sounding like it was torn from somewhere deep inside. He shuddered against Ethan's body, fingers digging into Ethan's thighs. "Yes."

Ethan's eyes snapped shut, wild sparks of color flashing behind the lids. He refused to come this soon, but those words had his balls twitching and tensing, ready to shoot his hot, sticky right into Grayson's belly, just like Grayson had done to him last night.

He didn't realize how long he'd hesitated until Grayson reached back and grabbed his hair, pulling Ethan in until their faces almost touched, each of Grayson's breaths huffing against his lips.

"Don't stop," he gritted out, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I want—"

"What?" Ethan demanded. "What do you want?"

"I want – this," he groaned, arching until he was grinding down on Ethan's cock. "I want you to – breed me."

"Gray." Ethan's fingers went tight on Grayson's hip, his mouth shoving up against Grayson's parted, bitten lips. The tongue that licked back at his was rough and demanding, as slick as the place Ethan was fucking into. "Yeah – yeah, I'm gonna breed you. Fill you up with my pups so we'll both be pregnant at the same time. Ah, that's so hot."

Grayson whimpered and nodded at his dirty talk, his face screwing up in a grimace of pleasure. His hand scrabbled down to grip his own cock where it bobbed, swaying with every thrust of Ethan's hips.

"No," Ethan said sharply, reaching down to grab his wrist. "Not yet."

Grayson's teeth sank into his fat lower lip, his entire body going tense, and then let out a slow, shaky breath.

"That's it," Ethan breathed, nuzzling at the side of Grayson's neck and drilling him with steady, even pumps. He rubbed Grayson's wrist before letting it go, giving him the chance to comply.

"Oh," Grayson huffed, dropping his hand back to grip Ethan's thigh almost excruciatingly hard. Ethan knew he'd leave bruises. "This feels good."

Ethan slid a hand up through Grayson's hair and gave it a tug.

"I love you," he whispered, yanking Grayson's head back and exposing his throat.

Grayson's lip curled, showing Ethan the sharp edge of his teeth. "I-I love you too, Ethan."

Ethan rubbed his mouth, open and damp, against the side of Grayson's cheek. Grayson heaved, his fingernails digging into Ethan's legs.

Ethan sank his teeth into the side of Grayson's neck as he jerked sharply and came, sucking an angry bruise right over the place where his pulse fluttered.

His whole body throbbed with the force of it, wild and alive with the thought that Gray was his – his entirely, his alone. And he was Grayson's. Completely. Fully. It was a powerful feeling, one that had him rocking into Grayson until he had nothing more to give.

When he finally came back to himself, he found he'd left a sharp row of teeth marks on Grayson's skin – and Grayson hadn't moved at all. His head was tilted to give Ethan full access to that tender, sensitive place on his throat, and his large, calloused hands were still clutching harshly, dominantly, against Ethan's thighs, nowhere near his own neglected cock.

"That feel good?" Ethan asked. His voice was nearly shaking with exhaustion and the weight of all the emotion between them – his own as well as Grayson's, which seemed to crackle in the air around them.

He slid his hand down Grayson's stomach and tapped his fingers teasingly against his swollen cockhead. "I gave you a big one. Kind that'll make a nice big litter of cubs. Probably even bigger than the litter you put inside me."

Grayson made a deep noise, his cock twitching like it was trying to get closer to Ethan's touch spurred on by Ethan's dirty talk.

"Yeah, it felt good." Grayson rumbled deeply, squeezing Ethan's thighs tigher.

Ethan groaned and grabbed Grayson's cock, his thumb finding the nervy tip and rubbing at it unforgivingly. It made Grayson's hips jerk and a broken noise tear out of him.

Four strokes later he was shuddering and whining and striping his own stomach with thick, white ropes. Ethan stared down at Grayson's member as he stroked it, watching the slit flare open in rhythmic winks even after the last of his seed had spattered out.

It took Grayson a long time to come down from that, his whole-body clenching and coiling as he gasped out soft noises. Ethan held him carefully, stroking at his arms and letting him unwind at his own pace. He knew the steely attitude would slide back into place soon enough, but he also knew he'd just pushed Grayson towards something huge and scary – something that he wanted to experience but was reluctant to accept.

I love you.

Damn, if that isn't the scariest three words in all of the English language.

When the tension finally faded out of Grayson's frame, Ethan pressed a kiss against his temple and slowly pulled out. Grayson swayed unsteadily on his knees, slumping over gratefully when Ethan eased them down on the pelts.

The cave was quiet in the wake of that coupling, silent except for the crackle of the fire and the ragged, wet noise of Grayson's breaths as they evened out.

He wouldn't meet Ethan's gaze, but Ethan couldn't look at anything else; the cave, the forest, and everything else in it might have not existed at all – there was only Grayson.

Ethan had spent his whole life longing for something, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what – and it was this. The whole time, it had been this enduring, wry, masculine creature who hunted rabbits and read great American novels before sleeping on the floor of a cave. It had been his long-lost twin.

It was shocking to finally have him, and even more so to know that Grayson loved him just as much as Ethan loved him, even if he had a hard time showing it in the normal "people" way.

Ethan pressed the tips of two fingers against the bruise he'd left on Grayson's neck, relishing the way Grayson shivered in response. He let his fingers drift down to the long, nearly translucent scar that curved over Grayson's shoulder, tracing it with a fingertip and then touching his mouth there gently.

Grayson shifted, muscles twitching under his skin.

"Hey," Ethan murmured. "It's just me."

He was surprised to find that just the sound of his voice was enough to make Grayson settle. He let out a short, irritated little breath, but relaxed completely.

"What are you doing?" he said after a moment, glancing at Ethan from the corner of his eye.

"Touching you," Ethan said, amused. "I kind of enjoy it, seeing as you're my mate, and all. Don't you like it?"

Grayson made a noncommittal noise, and Ethan rubbed his face against Grayson's shoulder and up to the curve of his neck.

"Gray? Do you-"

"Yes," Grayson said roughly.

Ethan smiled and pulled him in against his chest. "You know you're pretty surly, right?"

"Yeah, well. You're friendly enough for the both of us." Grayson swallowed, his voice dropping into a low rumble that was hard to read. "Did you mean what you said before? You love me?"

"Yeah," Ethan said. "I love you."

"That doesn't make any sense," Grayson said after a pause. "You should want to procreate. That's the point of mating. I should want that, too. We can't make pups, E."

"I don't care. I want you, okay? Luna doesn't make mistakes, remember? So what? We can always adopt."

He tried to pull Grayson against him, but he squirmed slightly at his touch.

"I'm so happy I found you, Gray."

Grayson shut his eyes.

"I never—" He broke off abruptly. Ethan's fingers kept rubbing gently at his skin of his tough, hard bicep until he continued. "I learned to take care of myself a long time ago. I didn't think I'd ever find... you."

Ethan turned his face against Grayson's hair, breathing in his smell until his lungs strained and burned. It made his entire body throb, went to his head and made him dizzy with want and need. He couldn't imagine living without this, now that he found it. He couldn't imagine anyone catching this scent and not wanting to wrap themselves up in it, savor every detail.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He could feel the pull of muscles when Grayson swallowed. "You have to return to your pack eventually."

"Gray," Ethan bit back the rage and said patiently, steering Grayson's chin up so they were almost nose to nose. "We're a pack now. You and me. They stole me away, anyway. They took me away from you."

Grayson blinked a few times, not meeting his eyes. It was true. It was the truest thing in the whole world. How was Ethan supposed to go back to them now, knowing what they had done?

"You have a whole life that you left behind, and it's waiting for you back in your city. You don't have to go back to the back, but you have to go back to school. Live your life. There's no place for me in that world. I won't live in it. I won't." Grayson suddenly said, his lips curling back over his teeth, his mouth firm.

"I'm not asking you to." Ethan surprised himself with the words, but even as he heard them, he knew it was true. He would never force Grayson to go against his nature. He knew he couldn't, even if wanted to.

"What, then?" Grayson scoffed, jerking his chin from Ethan's hand. "You want to stay here?"

Ethan let that idea take shape in his mind – not returning to Seattle, or school, or work. Giving up his car and television and music collection. Living here in the woods, hunting for prey with Grayson by his side, freely changing between forms as he wished – and doing all of it with Grayson. The entire woods would be theirs to roam, and every night they would come back to this den, lay by the fire and take turns mounting each other for hours.

"Do you want me to?" Ethan said quietly.

Grayson glanced over at him. Their eyes locked for no more than a second, but Ethan saw things there that he hadn't let himself hope for – that he didn't know were possible.

When Grayson spoke his voice was thin and quiet, almost too low to hear, but Ethan felt it all the way down to his bones.

"Yes. Very much."

Ethan turned his face against Grayson's neck, his arm tightening around Grayson's chest and pulling him even closer. He could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under his hand and where his mouth rested on Grayson's throat; Grayson's scent was all over him, surrounding him and quietly relating his pleasure, his presence, and his sudden anxiousness at having made that admission.

"I'm not going anywhere," Ethan repeated, his words slow and deliberate.

Grayson touched his hand uncertainly, then gripped it, twining his fingers around Ethan's and squeezing tightly. Ethan squeezed back.

"You really are stupid," Grayson said hoarsely.

Ethan smiled. "That's the rumor."

"And you're terrible at catching fish," he added, his thumb sliding up to rub at the back of Ethan's hand.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm sticking around, then," Ethan teased. "You'll have plenty of time to teach me how to do it right."

Grayson pulled back enough to look at him, lips quirked up in his sardonic little smile.

"Yeah," Grayson said quietly. His smile widened into a grin that Ethan hadn't seen before and couldn't wait to put there again. "Good thing."


	17. Husband? Husband.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan gets in a skateboard accident and suffering from amnesia, wakes up thinking that Grayson is his husband.

Ethan's head feels like it has been cracked in two.

Imagine plucking an egg from the egg carton in the fridge and then tapping it against the side of a cooking bowl. Crack, crack...

Splat.

That's the one thing Ethan knows for sure. His head feels kind of like that egg having been cracked open, oozing sickly yellow gunk-pain and nausea.

He opens his eyes once, feels a wave of sickness wash over him like a wave crashing in the ocean, and lets them fall shut again with an unhappy groan. The harsh hospital lights and the shrieking beep beep beep of the heart monitor are making his throbbing headache worse by the second.

Thump, thump, thump...

He can feel his pulse in his throat, in his temples, in the way he only usually can if he's irrationally dehydrated.

He hears someone shuffling to his bedside, hears them say his name, hey, Ethan...you awake, bro? and he works up the courage to look around again, to match a face to that familiar voice.

The man is wearing a dark blue long-sleeved shirt. It clings to his wide chest. It clings like the darkness under his eyes, the stress marring his face. He looks very, very tired. He smells like aftershave and sweat and something musky and clean, like sandalwood, like soap. Ethan digs into the depths of his psyche for a name, a name that's on the tip of his tongue, but... he draws a blank.

Who the fuck is this dude? Ethan thinks groggily.

"Ethan, you've been out for hours." He says quietly, like he knows that Ethan's head is about to explode if the speaks any louder. "I know you hate hospitals, but I couldn't risk it this time. Fuck, bro. You really hit that ramp. You fuckin' scared me, E. You were bleeding like crazy."

"It's alright." Ethan mutters. His voice sounds foreign, too rough, too raspy.

But is it really alright? Really, what is this man talking about? Ramp? What's a ramp?

He tries to sit up but doesn't get far before a hand comes to press gently at his shoulder.

"Hey, bro. Take it easy. Lie back down." The man soothes, rubbing his thumb across Ethan's collarbone. It's warm and comforting, and Ethan tries to look at this guy, really look. He needs to remember who he is. He's important, whoever he is.

Ethan drinks him in. He noticed right away that the guy is tall and wide and fit. But the more he looks the more he feels a warmth within him. He knows that face, he can see an earnestness in the stranger's eyes that's more familiar than anything else, than even Ethan's own pounding heartbeat. He knows that smooth, tan skin. He knows that short, dark hair, that stubble marring his face.

He knows this man, perhaps better than he knows himself.

Ethan just needs to figure out who the fuck he is.

Mystery Man takes a few minutes to convince Ethan to lay back down. He starts to explain how Ethan had even ended up in the hospital in the first place: You flew off the fucking ramp, E. You smacked your head against the concrete. Your skateboard snapped in two. Fuck, bro. I even fuckin' filmed it. You tried to do a jump shot and...shit...do you remember any of it?

Ethan just leans back and watches the man talk, looking at the plump curve of his bottom lip, the way the skin around his eyes crinkles slightly with his weary facial expressions. He is speaking so earnestly.

Ethan has a lot of questions. He keeps them to himself, though, because Mystery Man has worked himself to tears as he continues to express his utmost frustration, remorse, and anger surrounding this particular predicament that Ethan must've gotten himself into. Instead of asking any questions, Ethan reaches out, finding the man's hand where it's clutching the blankets at the edge of the bed. It feels like the right thing to do, to hold his hand.

"It's okay." Ethan says, smiling, trying to reassure this man that smells like aftershave and sandalwood and warmth. "I'm okay. I can buy a new skateboard?" He ventures. Can he buy a new skateboard? It's hard to think exactly what a skateboard is at the moment. Ethan thinks real hard, feeling the man's hand in his own.

The man huffs out a watery laugh, and memories of that skateboard wash over Ethan. It's sleek and black and Ethan can't think about it without also remembering Mystery Man's lips, curling into soft smiles or the way his mouth curves upwards in a laugh, eyes crinkled. He can feel the grittiness of the top of the board, the smell of sweat, the way the sun warms the wood, the feeling of the wheels all gritty and worn with movement. Then, he remembers the man's hands: fixing the broken wheel for him, the way his wrist turns to screw it back on, the sensation of being in the room with him, thanking him for fixing it, a solidary finger flicking the back wheel lazily, although in momentary boredom.

They've been together for a long, long time. This Ethan can feel.

A nurse bustles through the door, as Ethan tries to figure out exactly who this Mystery Man was to him. He pulls away when she comes into the room, letting Ethan's hand drop back onto the scratchy hospital blanket. He stands up and backs off, giving her space to work. Ethan misses the warmth of his hand like a missing limb.

"Oh, good. You're awake." The nurse says curtly, checking his IV and his vitals on the heart monitor before turning her attention to this familiar stranger. "Grayson here..." She nods to him and Ethan sucks in a breath because he has a name now. Grayson. Gray.

"...He said you would want the discharge papers as soon as you were up. Against medical advice, of course."

She purses her lips together in disapproval, looks like she maybe wants to tell them both that they're being stupid. And she's probably right. Ethan's head still feels like a broken piece of china, splintered apart and shattered all over the ground. He steals another glance at Grayson and trusts that he'll be able to piece him back together again. He doesn't need a hospital, or doctors, or nurses, or morphine. He's got Grayson. He finds that he has a whole hell of a lot of trust in this stranger.

"Now, before I let you leave I just want to run through a couple of things." The nurse checks the dressing over the wound in his head, smoothing down the medical tape that's holding him together. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright..." Ethan answers, looking to Grayson to watch his reactions. "...I feel, sore. A little confused. But I'm okay."

"Confused, what do you mean...?" Grayson leans forward, his hands hovering uselessly by his sides. He doesn't seem to know what to do with them. Ethan thinks he wants to reach out and touch Ethan and never let him go, for fear of losing him all over again. Ethan latches onto that intensity. He recognizes the look of utter despair and desperation that had made a home in Grayson's features. He's felt it all before.

With a rush, Ethan remembers something, something with a motorcycle. The feel of its rumbling engine, the open road, the way it tilted and he was thrown, rolling across too-hot highway, the way the skin of his knees torn off with the momentum, the feeling of blood soaking into his jeans, the way the blood erupted from the wounds on his hands when he reached out to catch himself, to not slam his head against the ground. He was...he was in a motorcycle accident, wasn't he? Grayson had been so upset that he wouldn't allow him to ever get back on one again and Ethan had agreed. They were dangerous machines.

"Well I- Maybe I forgot who you were, just for a couple minutes." Ethan mutters.

Grayson's brow furrows, a hundred emotions flashing across his face. Pissed, frustration, worried, scared-to-death. It quickly lands on worried again. He gives into the urge to touch Ethan, resting his hand on his forearm. His grip is a little painful, desperate in a way that confirms Ethan's suspicions as to who exactly Grayson was to him. Ethan desperately wants to reassure him that he's okay.

"Don't worry, Gray. I remember now. You're my husband."

The nurse blinks.

She looks at Grayson, his mouth hung a little open and his head cocked slightly to the side like he's trying to tell if he heard him correctly, then back at Ethan who's looking up at him so earnestly that it hurts. She blinks again, her face reddening. Grayson snaps his mouth closed.

"Uh. I'm... what?" Grayson's eyes narrow, but he doesn't remove his hand from Ethan's arm. Ethan looks down, notices that Grayson isn't wearing a ring, and neither is Ethan. Not married, then, but Ethan knows he's on the right track. He can feel it deep in his soul, the crushing heartache and burning passion, they've gotta be a thing, even if they haven't popped the question, officially. There's no other explanation for how hot Ethan feels, every time he meets Grayson's eyes.

"You two are married?" The nurse looks to Grayson. "Well. I'm very confused."

The nurse is looking at Ethan, then at Grayson, then at Ethan, as though they're aliens. Then she glances around the room, fully prepared for there to be hidden cameras and some guy is going to come rushing through the door and declare she's been pranked.

Grayson blinks, "Yeah. No-"

"Right, we're not married yet." Ethan cuts the man off. "I think my wires are all kinds of crossed right now, I'm forgetting the details. But I remember the important stuff. We've been together forever; I love this guy so much that it hurts. And I know I think he's hot as fuck."

Ethan winks at the nurse, and she gives him a look like he's a crackhead.

"Body like that..." Ethan glances at Grayson and tries to lean over towards the nurse like he's whispering, like Grayson isn't right beside him and can't clearly hear what he's saying. "I think I'm a really lucky guy."

"Fuck, E!" Grayson stands up suddenly, shifting away from Ethan and leaning against the wall. He looks to the heavens, taking a few deep breaths, "I'm your fucking brother!"

"Huh." Ethan makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. The ache in his head is back now, full force. The painkillers must be wearing off. Ethan feels his face heating up, and the ache spreads from his head to his hollow chest, because Grayson's refusing to make eye contact with Ethan. Instead, he focuses on the nurse who looks down at Ethan and then back up at Grayson again.

"Is this... Is he okay?" Grayson asks quietly. She's frozen in place for a long moment, looking between Grayson and Ethan incredulously.

"Confusion and memory loss are normal, and usually temporary. But to be sure, he really should stay for another night..." she says dubiously, clutching the file tighter in her hands. Ethan shakes his head, looking in Grayson's direction briefly. He looks halfway to full-blown panic, and Ethan needs to calm him down, reassure him that everything is alright.

"No, no. I'm okay." Ethan swallows down his own panic. There's no need for it, the puzzle pieces of his brain are starting to fall back into place already. He's mortified about the whole husband-brother mistaken identity situation, but at least his marbles aren't lost for good.

"I just gotta... sleep it off. I'm fine. I remember him properly now. He's Grayson. He's my twin bro. We're YouTubers. My name is Ethan. I'm dairy free, Obama is president, it's a Tuesday-"

"It's Wednesday." Grayson says distractedly. "And Trump's president."

Ethan shrugs. "So, I'm a day out. No big deal. And I guess Trump's president. Big deal. I wouldn't get it right even on my best day. I promise I'm okay, okay, bro? Where's those AMA papers-"

"Fine, whatever. Here." The nurse flips to the discharge page and points at a box down the bottom. Ethan scrawls his name in the box, and it's wobbly and uneven because Ethan's hands have started shaking ever since he started properly remembering again.

There's an air of stale awkwardness that lingers in the room, and the nurse makes quick work of taking back the page Ethan signed and turning tail right back through the door. Grayson is a silent sentinel in the corner of the room. He keeps his arms folded and bitchface firmly in place while Ethan forces himself to sit up. He resolutely does not move to help until Ethan stands up and almost loses his footing as the floor seems to turn liquid beneath him. With a wince Ethan realizes he won't be able to dress himself.

Grayson's steps forward before Ethan even thinks to ask him to help. He grabs Ethan by the elbow to steady him, helping him into his clothes. His burgundy sweatpants slide on like a second skin, and the comfortable cotton white shirt stitches the last broken pieces of his brain back together.

He remembers everything now: They had done it for Snapchat. Ethan had urged Grayson to take the video, telling him he could make the shot although he had been fatigued after spending quite a lot of time just hanging out with Gray at the skate park, doing tricks and just chilling, enjoying the fresh, warm air. They had finally emailed their latest video for Ricky to edit and in celebration it was just going to be he and Grayson. And it had been. For close to four hours. Grayson had suggested Ethan rest and get a drink of water, cool himself down, before he tried to make the shot, seeing the light tremble in Ethan's legs, a tell-tale sign he was verging on exhausted, and the sweat pouring down his face and bare chest. But Ethan's eyes narrowed at the challenge, his competitive steak coming to the forefront of his demeanor. He refused, told Grayson he could make it, that he wasn't some wimp that needed to cool down before he tried it. Hell, he was better than Grayson at skateboarding. He could make the shot blindfolded. Reluctantly, Grayson agreed. Ethan tried it. He didn't succeed.

It all went black after he slammed his head against the concrete, the last thing he felt was the sun beating down on his side and chest, the last thing he smelled was his own salty sweat and the coppery cruelty of blood. The last thing he saw was Grayson running towards him, phone having dropped to the ground where he stood, his mouth forming words that Ethan could no longer hear.

He glances at Grayson's face now that he's dressed and feeling like himself again. His lips are pursed together in a thin line, which isn't a good sign. It means he's thinking hard and keeping it all to himself. Fuck.

"Gray."

"Not now."

Ethan sighs in defeat and tries to cross the room by himself, but his body refuses to cooperate. Grayson is by his side in an instant, wrapping his arm around his waist to help him walk. Ethan takes advantage of the proximity, regarding Grayson with bleary eyes and still trying to make sense of the furrow in Grayson's brow and the pink flush on his cheeks.

"In my defense, you were hovering like a worried housewife."

"I said not now." Grayson hisses, and he manhandles him out of the hospital room, all the way through the parking lot in into the passenger seat of Smooth Cat. Ethan's eyes catch on the bloodstained seats, and he sighs, leaning his head back. He listens to the softly playing radio, Kid Cudi, and tries not to think too hard about all the stupid things he said tonight. Grayson is steadfastly silent, all the way back to the house.

They stumble through the door, Grayson bearing most of Ethan's weight. The splitting headache is back with a vengeance, and Ethan barely holds back the burning hot nausea that builds in his stomach. Surprisingly enough they are making their way to Grayson's room. Ethan doesn't argue. He collapses back onto his bed, the soft mattress welcoming him with open arms.

"Don't sleep yet." Grayson mutters, the first words he's said in nearly thirty minutes. He comes to Ethan's side, helping him sit up. He presses a glass of water into one hand and a few Tylenol into the other. Ethan swallows them in one, gulping down the water and willing his stomach to stop twisting into knots. He gives Grayson back the glass and falls onto his back again, his eyes slipping shut without a second thought.

He's half conscious, can hear Grayson moving about the room. He can feel that Grayson has stepped close again, and then he's working Ethan's sneakers off, stripping off his shirt with a little bit of Ethan's grumpy help and his sweatpants follow, until he's left in nothing but his boxers.

Ethan rouses long enough to help Grayson get him under the covers, and then he's out for good.

-

Neither of them mentions the "husband incident" for at least a week and a half.

Ethan can't stop thinking about it, though.

It's like a scab he wants to pick at, he can't just drop the issue. Grayson had acted weird about the whole thing. He should laugh it off, make a few jokes at Ethan's expense, and Ethan would be able to get defensive and call Grayson a bitch and they would be able to move on. But Grayson hasn't said a god-damn thing. He's gone off the deep end, diving into their videos like he's a man lost at sea and the only hope for salvation is within the lens of a camera. In the last ten odd days they've posted three videos. Ethan thinks that he can feel their subtle awkwardness within them, like the way Grayson has a hard time making eye contact with him or the way he gets angry easily (or, at least, angrier than usual), like he doesn't want Ethan talking to him.

Ethan gives into the itching feeling to talk to Grayson when after having a workout outside, Grayson plops himself down on the floor of the living room to draw up video ideas in a fresh t-shirt, the sweat still clinging to his back, making the fabric more than a few shades too dark in some places. Ethan stands at the doorway for a second, two diet root beers in hand, and knows Grayson can sense his presence there when he tenses a little in the shoulders.

"Alright, I'm giving in." Ethan announces, collapsing onto the sofa that Grayson is currently leaning again. He puts Grayson's root beer right next to his IPad on the coffee table. Grayson doesn't even look up. He cracks open a soda, the sound of it echoing through the room, making Ethan wince. The gash in his head is slowly healing, but sometimes he gets these lingering headaches. He wants to blame it on Grayson's screaming silence. For once Ethan wishes Grayson would be loud and obnoxious like he usually is, headaches he damned. At least then Ethan would know he hadn't fucked their relationship up for good.

"Bro, I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but... do you want to talk about it?"

Grayson suddenly gets up like he can't stand that he's even within two feet of Ethan. His arms fold defensively across his chest and he turns on his heel, now on the side of the coffee table. Ethan thinks fleetingly that it's almost like looking in a mirror. Grayson takes a few steps back, expression unwavering.

"About what?"

"The hospital." Ethan takes the bottle tab-he's has nervously tore it off by accident- between his fingers, fiddling with it, letting it draw his attention, so he doesn't have to see Grayson's expression as he mentions that night. "You know, when my eggs were all scrambled, and maybe I mistook you for my husband for a couple of minutes-"

"No, I don't want to talk about it." Grayson says, so firmly and so forcefully that Ethan has to look up again. Although Grayson is acting like tough shit Ethan can see the redness of his cheeks. He looks...sad, maybe. Guilty? Yeah, a little guilty too.

"Fuck, Gray," Ethan starts, forcing himself to stand, dropping the bottle tab onto the table with a sharp, tinny clang. He crosses the distance between them, stepping into Grayson's space. He folds his arms too, trying to meet Grayson's eyes, but he keeps looking away.

"I don't know why this is such a big deal for you. It's embarrassing for me, sure! And it's weird that I called you hot... but I didn't mean... I don't even know what I was thinking." Ethan falters, deciding not to open that can of worms. "You've been acting weird ever since that night. I need to fix this because we can't keep going on like this. So, can you please tell me what's going on in that fuckin' brain of yours so I can say the right thing and we can move on from this!?"

"Ethan, I can't." Grayson says, his face melting into sadness. That look wasn't one that Ethan was counting on. Hell, no, it isn't. Pissed? Yeah. Enraged? Hell yeah. But sad? Jesus, Grayson looks like a kicked puppy. Ethan's heart leaps to his throat, an instinctual response to the sight of Grayson in distress. He needs to make it better for him, but he has no idea where to start. That damned concussion. What does it say about the state of their relationship when it takes nothing, but a head wound to have them spiraling out of control like this?

"Can't what Gray?"

Grayson looks like he's closing himself off, hugging his arms around his body and trying to take up as little space as possible. "You said I was your husband. And it... And I wanted..."

Ethan blinks, stunned.

Did he just...? Did he just say...?

"What...?"

"I just wanted it. So bad."

"You... Oh, oh-"

And for a moment Ethan is sure that Grayson is just fucking with him. He must be fucking with him. There was no way. But Ethan knows his brother. And the way that Grayson is looking at him now, well, there's no mistaking it. He's dead ass serious about this whole thing. 

Realization washes over him, and he wants to collapse with relief. He can fix this. He can make this all better. This is fixable, at least.

It's fixable because Ethan has felt this way for a long, long time too.

"-Gray, this is a thing for you?"

Grayson sighs and drops his chin to his chest, breaking their eye contact and resolutely fixing his gaze to the floor. "Bro, I- I'm sorry. I'm fucked up in the head. I'm fucking sick. I know it-" He's saying, and Ethan is already shaking his head. He steps closer, so Grayson has no choice but to look at him.

"No, no no... Gray, you're not disgusting. Bro, I'm not disgusted." Ethan says, seriously, his hands finding their way to Grayson's face, cupping his jaw, feeling the flushed warmth of his skin.

"It's okay, Gray." He whispers, leaning down and pressing his lips against Grayson's sandpaper rough jawline. Grayson breathes out Ethan's name, an impulse.

"Ethan."

"Gray." Ethan counteracts, tasting the sweat on his jaw, the saltiness of a fresh workout with no shower. It's musky.

"We shouldn't." He says weakly. Ethan's hands are in his hair now, threading through the soft, short strands at the nape of his neck. Ethan's close enough that he can practically see a shiver run down Grayson's spine at the gentle touch, through his cotton t-shirt. He smiles into the soft skin of Grayson's throat.

"Why not?" Ethan mutters, pressing gentle kisses along the column of Grayson's esophagus. He pulls back, just for a second, just to say-

"You are my husband, after all."

Grayson groans, Ethan feels the rumble of it under his lips. Any more protests falter and die on Grayson's lips.

"And good sex is key to a healthy marriage, don't you think?" Ethan pulls back, pressing a fleeting kiss to Grayson's slack mouth. He catches Ethan's eye, and nods wordlessly. And although Ethan is nervous as hell and Grayson probably is too, Ethan kisses him again, properly this time. Grayson's lips are pliant under his, and finally, finally, he gives in completely. Ethan feels Grayson's hands wrap around his waist, gripping him tight enough that it hurts a little. It's good. It's so good.

Grayson puts everything he has into the kiss. He pulls Ethan around and suddenly he's herding him against the wall beside the tv, a solid surface, and he's pressed up against the white wallpaper, Grayson solid and desperate and taking up every inch of Ethan's personal space. There's enough friction between them that Ethan can feel Grayson getting hard against him. Grayson's hips rut against Ethan as they kiss.

Ethan presses back against Grayson. They move away from the wall and he quickly snatches his hand, practically yanking him down the hall and into Grayson's bedroom. Ethan pushes Grayson to sit on the edge of his bed and he steps between Grayson's spread thighs. He takes a second to regain his breath, feels Grayson run his hands up Ethan's sweatpants-clad thighs, around over his ass, to where they settle at the base of Ethan's spine. Grayson hugs him close, his face pressed into Ethan's stomach. He sucks in a shaky breath, and Ethan can feel him trembling.

"You're okay. It's okay." Ethan mutters, letting his fingers comb through his hair absentmindedly at Grayson's uncharacteristic display of tenderness and vulnerability.

"Are you sure you want this too?" Grayson's voice is muffled by Ethan's shirt, but Ethan understands him, loud and clear.

"Wanted this for a pretty long time." Ethan massages his fingers against Grayson's hair, titling his head to rub soothingly near the nape, "Never thought I deserved it."

"You do. You deserve everything."

Ethan shakes his head and barks out a short laugh, the sound of it bubbling in his stomach. Fuck, no he doesn't. Ethan doesn't believe that. Why? Why would he deserve anything? What has he given to the world except for a few laughs? Grayson looks up at him when Ethan laughs, his eyes bright and shiny with emotion and Ethan can tell that Grayson honestly believes it. He believes he deserves the whole world and if Grayson could give it to him, he would.

Ethan leans down to kiss him again, tastes the earnestness on his tongue, swallows down the overwhelming wave of feeling that bubbles under the surface of his overheated skin.

"C'mon. Save it for the wedding vows, Gray."

Grayson rolls his eyes, but Ethan doesn't miss the flush that spreads over Grayson's cheeks. The whole husband thing really does seem to spark something deep within Gray, and Ethan will be damned if he doesn't take advantage of that.

He shakes his head bemusedly, reaching for the hem of Grayson's sweaty cotton shirt. He tugs it over Grayson's head and lets himself drink in the sight of Grayson's broad, muscled chest, his sweaty golden skin.

"Man, Grayson." Ethan drops to his knees, and it seems to startle Grayson a little. "You're so gorgeous. All mine, my beautiful husband..." His fingers fumble with the string that holds up Grayson's sweats, ghosting over Grayson's boxer briefs where they're stretched tight over his junk.

"Ah, Ethan..." Grayson bites out, already sounding overwhelmed.

"Gotta take care of you." Ethan mutters, rubbing his thumb over the exposed, bony part of Grayson's hips. Grayson shifts, letting Ethan tug off his pants and underwear fully. Ethan mouth waters at the sight of Grayson in all his glory, his big, thick cock just inches from his face.

Ethan glances up to make dead ass eye contact with him, "'Cause, Gray, I know you'll take care of me. Fuck me good and hard whenever I need it."

Grayson takes a shuddering breath. One of his hands moves to Ethan's face, his thumb rubbing gently over his cheekbone. Ethan grins up at him, taking Grayson in hand, feeling the hot weight of his dick. Then, he lets go. Just like that.

Ethan looks up at Grayson, takes in his heaving chest and the way he's staring back, wide eyed and half out of his mind. He looks like he's about to lose control, already, and Ethan can't have that. Grayson wouldn't be a very good husband if he finished without even being touched properly, especially without pleasing Ethan first.

Reluctantly, Ethan pulls back up so he's standing between his knees and Grayson reaches up with a shaking hand, traces his bottom lip with his thumb, looking awestruck and more turned on than he'd ever been. He draws Ethan downwards, stealing another kiss.

"You're amazing." He says into Ethan's mouth. He's desperate now, pulling at Ethan's shirt and practically ripping it to shreds in his haste to pull it off. "You're... E, ah, fuck- I need-"

"I know." Ethan grabs at his frantic hands. "Just a second, let me get the stuff-"

Grayson nods, collapsing back against the bed and swiping his hands over his eyes. He's sweaty, flushed red and completely debauched. Ethan digs through his drawer, finding the bottle of lube. His fingers brush up against the packet of condoms he keeps in his drawer, but he doesn't feel the need to use one. Not with Grayson. He wants to feel him completely, skin to skin. Ethan hands are shaking a little, and he isn't sure if it's because he's out of his mind horny, or because he's been waiting for this moment for so long. Either way, he's desperate to touch Grayson again, to have him inside him, to hold him so close that they forget how to live separately.

Grayson is still laying back on the bed, watching Ethan as he works on getting his own sweats off.

"Like what you see?" Ethan teases, rubbing over his own hard member through his boxers before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and stripping down completely.

"Fuck yeah." Grayson moans sincerely. "Come here."

Ethan drops the lube on the bed, crawling over to Grayson and straddling his waist. He can feel Grayson's hard cock against his ass, and he grinds down, just a little, just to feel the weight of it. Grayson gasps and wraps his hands around Ethan, his fingers digging into his ribs.

"Not gonna last long." He mutters, biting into Ethan's neck a little. "You're driving me crazy."

"It's okay." Ethan says, reaching for the lube, a moan sticking in his throat as Grayson sucks at the delicate skin over his pulse point. Ethan makes quick work of slicking up his own fingers, pulling away from Grayson for just a second, to feel back and slip his fingers inside of himself. He drops his head into the crook of Grayson's neck, biting back a sharp moan as he opens himself up. It's been a while.

"You done this before?" Grayson asks quietly, his chest rumbling as he speaks. Ethan just nods. Grayson's arms seem to grip a little tighter with the admission, and Ethan senses he doesn't want to hear any more detail about the guys he's been with before. Ethan feels something hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach, knowing that Grayson is the jealous type. His own cock twitches, and fleetingly Ethan thinks he might be harder than he's ever been, with any man or woman.

One of Grayson's hands trails down Ethan's side, and then Ethan feels another hand at his hole, feeling around the rim but not penetrating. He shivers at the touch, stretching himself frantically, desperate for Grayson's member.

"Slick yourself up." Ethan says through gritted teeth. A breath gets caught in Grayson's throat, and he uses his free hand to find the lube. Ethan hears it open, hears the wet sounds of Grayson jerking himself, getting himself nice and slippery and ready for Ethan. He can feel the movement, feel it under his own hard cock and he decides he's loose enough. Grayson's big, it's gonna burn no matter how prepared he is. Ethan's okay with that, he wants it to hurt a little, he wants to feel every inch and keep feeling him long after they're done.

"C'mon Gray. Fuck me." Ethan says, and it's like he's flipped a switch in Grayson. He grabs Ethan by the hips and then maneuvers them so that he's on top now, and Ethan is laid out against the soft white bedsheets. Ethan spreads his legs wide open, and Grayson slots between them like a missing puzzle piece.

His cock brushes up against Ethan's, hot and slick and Ethan needs it so desperately that he bucks up at that slight touch.

Grayson pauses, takes the chance to kiss Ethan deeply and forcefully. He keeps kissing him desperately, and Ethan feels the broad head of his cock against his slackened hole, and it's everything he ever dreamed of.

"Fuck, Gray." Ethan gasps, hooking his chin over Grayson's shoulder and running his hands over Grayson's back, feeling over tanned skin and tight muscles. Grayson's teeth are pressing into Ethan's neck again as he bottoms out, his groin flush against Ethan. It's nearly too much, and Ethan almost blacks out, because it feels so good.

"You okay?" Grayson asks, looking into Ethan's face, and now Ethan can kiss him properly again. He kisses him so hard that their teeth knock together, a little painfully, but Grayson doesn't seem to mind. He starts to move his hips, thrusting into Ethan and making him see stars. Ethan sobs into Grayson's mouth, his neglected member twitching between them, leaking precome onto his belly.

"Touch me." Comes his strangled, husky reply.

"Yeah." Grayson mutters, glancing down at Ethan's angry red cock. He jerks him distractedly, but it's good enough for Ethan. Grayson starts thrusting deeper, the longer strokes taking Ethan's breath away. Grayson is kissing him, on the mouth, on the temple, on the jaw, on his neck, anywhere he can reach. Ethan can barely form a coherent thought, and he knows he's making some embarrassing sounds. It spurs Grayson on, his lunges getting more erratic as Ethan twists and squirms beneath him.

"You close?" Grayson asks, thumbing at the sensitive skin under the head of Ethan's cock. Ethan nods, muffling a cry in Grayson's shoulder and shuddering. His orgasm comes so quickly he almost doesn't expect it, but Grayson's really good with his hands and suddenly his balls tighten up against his body and he's shooting come so hard that he goes blind for a few overwhelming moments. Grayson gasps, jerking him through it, and kissing Ethan, licking into his mouth and swallowing Ethan's strangled moan.

"Oh, god, fuck E..." Grayson is whimpering, and Ethan comes back to himself. He's oversensitive now, every inch of his skin feels too tight and too hot and too cold all at the same time. Grayson's close, he can tell from the way he's saying Ethan's name, over and over and over again. He thrusts hard once, twice more, and then he goes still, and Ethan can feel it shooting inside him.

Grayson collapses on top of Ethan. He's heavy, but Ethan doesn't care. It's too hot and sweaty and Grayson's still inside of him, but neither of them make any move to pull apart from each other. Their breathing is in sync, their chests rising and falling together. Ethan would happily stay here forever, if he could.

He dozes, feels loose and pliant and exhausted, and barely registers when Grayson gets off him five, ten minutes later. He lets out a huff at the loss of Grayson's body heat, and the feeling of him pulling out, but he's too tired to move of his own volition. Grayson returns with a warm washcloth, and he wipes Ethan down. Ethan watches him through hooded eyes and smiles at him softly.

"That was awesome." Ethan slurs. Grayson laughs quietly, balling up the washcloth and throwing it back through the open bathroom door. He collapses onto the bed next to him, pushing and pulling at the sheets, getting them underneath the covers. Ethan settles against Grayson's chest, resting his hand over Grayson's steady heartbeat.

Grayson brings his own hand up to rest over Ethan's, his fingers mapping out the ghost of a ring on his fourth finger.

"Really should put a ring on it." He murmurs, almost like he's embarrassed.

"I'd get you one to match." Ethan yawns, planting a chaste kiss onto Grayson's chest before letting his eyes slip shut. The last thing he hears is Grayson's soft laughter, before his bone deep exhaustion pulls him into the best sleep of his whole life.


	18. Hump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson gets cursed by a L.A. witch. Now, he's convinced that he's in love with his twin brother. Ethan does not approve.

"Ethan, I love you!" Grayson blurted out before they'd even finished crossing the threshold of their front door to their spacious L.A. home.

It wasn't like he could stop himself. His nerves were jittering around wildly and his heart was thumping loudly in his ears as he followed his brother into his bedroom.

He watched the soft cotton of Ethan's jacket stretch across wide shoulders and he found himself cursing the material for putting yet another barrier between them. His breathing picked up as his gaze slipped down that back, lingering on the slight curve of Ethan's ass before moving down to the clothed legs that he couldn't help but imagine wrapped around his waist.

I'm so fucking horny.

It was a miracle he'd managed to keep his hands off him on the ride back.

Ethan and Grayson had got to see a clairvoyant, just somebody fun they could talk to about their business and YouTube; it was all fun and games, really. It was something to do on an unusually cool day for L.A. in October. Who doesn't like to have their fortune told? Everything seemed to be going great, until Grayson made a comment to the woman about her choice of décor and, well, she suddenly didn't seem to like Grayson so much. A couple minutes later, he wasn't feeling so good and Ethan, well, he started to look a little more fuckable than usual.

Ethan didn't look up as he shoved his shoes off with his toes, tucking them under the computer chair with his feet. "Course ya do." He glanced at Grayson over his shoulder with a cocky grin that Grayson would have rolled his eyes and thrown a shoe at once upon a time. "I'm super fuckin' loveable, bro.

Grayson shook his head and shut his door behind them, leaning against the cool wood as he continued to watch the older twin shrug out of the jacket and sit on the corner of the bed to check to see if he had his wallet. He all but drooled as those deft fingers worked through those slim pieces of plastic and loose off-green bills.

"Man," Ethan mumbled. "She really knew how to get you to pay up, huh? I can't believe she thinks I'm never getting married. Isn't that dumb, bro?" Ethan glanced up at his younger, but bigger, twin.

Those hands. Those hands were like a god's!

Grayson stifled a moan as he thought of those rough hands with those thick fingers trailing over his body, of those callused palms rubbing and cupping him all over. Touching him where no other man ever had, owning him completely. He hadn't thought about it before but now he could say with absolute certainty that he would let his brother do anything he wanted with him.

"Did you hear me, bro?" Ethan waved his hand about as though to gain Grayson's attention.

Grayson blinked.

"No. I mean, I love you," he repeated more insistently. For God sake it wasn't like they said those particular words to each other on the daily, so why was Ethan having such a hard time understanding what Grayson was trying to say?

Ethan blinked at him with raised eyebrows. "So what? You wanna hug?"

Grayson bit his lip and took a tentative step forward. Yeah. And kiss and then screw like bunnies all night long might not be the best response when Ethan was holding a wallet. A wallet he could throw at him. "No."

"Then what?" Ethan snapped impatiently before throwing his wallet on the desk and looking back up at Grayson. "You want me to say those three little words too?" he asked sarcastically.

"God yes!" Grayson gasped before he could stop himself, the thought of Ethan feeling the same way causing his heart to skip a beat.

Ethan blanched and got to his feet warily.

"Hey, you look a little flushed. You okay?" He asked worriedly, pressing the back of his hand gently to Grayson's heated cheeks and forehead, his brown eyes flickering with concern.

Grayson stepped closer, leaning into the touch. Ethan blinked at the reaction and pulled his hand away making Grayson whimper at the loss of contact, which had Ethan frowning harder.

"You feel a little warm, Gray. Better not be gettin' sick on my ass."

"That's the least of our worries." Grayson grumbled indignantly as he moved to sit beside him on the bed. His thighs trembled as he lowered himself to the comforter, his cock so hard it hurt.

Ethan moved to face Grayson's position, one leg tucked under, the other swinging off the side of the mattress, studying his flushed face apprehensively, eyes lingering on the beads of sweat forming at the hollow of Grayson's throat.

Something was definitely off here.

Grayson could barely look at Ethan without having mental pictures of launching himself at him and telling him how he felt without words. Grayson's tongue down his throat would be a message that even someone as dense as Ethan would be able to read loud and clear. His hand down his pants would just be to make sure that it got through.

Ethan's frown deepened as a glazed look came over his face. But the worst thing was the way Grayson seemed to be—no, he was staring at his crotch.

Placing his hand over his lap self-consciously, he snapped the fingers of his right hand under Grayson's nose. "Gray! What the fuck!?"

Grayson jerked back as if he'd been burned. "What? What did I do?" He sounded genuinely confused and lost, even though his voice was huskier than normal.

"You were full-on checkin' me out, man! That's so not cool." Ethan glared, tugging his t-shirt out a little to help cover his lap just in case his twin decided to have another staring contest with his dick again.

If it were possible, Grayson's face burned even redder. "Sorry, I-I don't know-why..." his voice broke, and he hung his head, hunching his shoulders up around his ears.

No matter how much he wanted it, Ethan didn't. He had to remember that. But his twin was just so damn gorgeous it wasn't fair.

"Ethan, I-I," he licked his dry lips nervously, lifting his eyes up to briefly glance at Ethan's face before quickly dragging them away. "I...there's something wrong with me."

"No shit, Gray." Ethan replied dryly, his lips twisting up into a half-amused half-freaked out expression. "What's goin' on with you? Hey," he leaned over and nudged Grayson's knee to get his attention. "talk to me, man."

Grayson jerked at the fleeting touch, heat searing up his leg. His cock twitched in his too tight sweats, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

Ethan stared at Grayson with wide eyes. "Come on, Gray. You can tell me," he cajoled softly.

Opening his eyes, Grayson found himself transfixed by the way the dim bedroom light made Ethan's brown eyes seem dark and fathomless. It made Grayson wonder what Ethan looked like when he was turned on. What he looked like when he was so strung out on pleasure that he was nothing but a writhing mess. He wondered achingly what his brother looked like when he was coming. Would his eyes still look brown then or would the pupils be blown so wide they turned into blackened pools of need.

"Okay...just don't hit me, alright?"

Ethan nodded; one eyebrow raised all the way up to his hairline.

Grayson took a shaky breath, his gaze locked with his brother's. "I think I'm in love with you."

Ethan's full lips twitched, and he looked like he was about to crack a joke, but Grayson held up a hand to cut him off. "And I want you so much it hurts. Literally, it hurts, bro." He pressed the heel of his palm to the front of his jeans in attempt to get some relief.

Ethan's eyes rounded and his mouth fell open, gaze fallen to Grayson's lap before he jumped to his feet and stepped away from him. "Are you serious?!"

Grayson nodded, giving Ethan his best hurt-puppy look. "I th—think something happened w-with that psychic, E." he stammered, his heart pounding so loud his chest hurt. He traced the lines of Ethan's back and legs with his eyes as Ethan spun around and ran his hands through his hair.

Pausing, Ethan frowned down at Grayson. This wasn't possible. This was some sort of fuckin' joke. A prank. It had to be a prank. Ethan subtly looked around, trying to spot the cameras. No luck.

"What do you mean? Like she worked some mojo on you?"

Grayson shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe." Ethan's eyebrows lifted again and Grayson stuttered on, the throbbing in his groin increasing just that little bit more to make his breath hitch. "I just—I've just been feeling really, really weird ever since we left that room and it's just getting worse." His jaw ticced as his dick gave an excited jerk, precome beginning to dampen the front of his jeans.

Ethan looked a little skeptical and a lot freaked out. He noticed Grayson's eyes start to drift back down his front again and spun away with a 'Yick!' sound.

"So what...the bitch cased a spell on you and suddenly you want me?!" Ethan exclaimed as he paced back and forth in front of the bed. He was determined not to look at his brother, if he did, he knew he would see that lovesick look on his face and that was not something he needed burned into his brain right now. Or ever.

Grayson shook his head distractedly, his mouth dry as a desert as he watched Ethan prowl in front of him like a caged animal. "I don't know, maybe. Does it matter?" he wondered absently as his eyes tracked over areas of Ethan nobody's eyes should go. At least not on purpose.

Ethan stopped mid-step and swung around to face Grayson. "Of course, it matters! What's wrong with you?" he half-shouted, inching back when he saw Grayson's gaze had fixed on his crotch again. He breathed deep and ran a hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself and keep from freaking out. "We just need to figure this out. I believe you, okay. But...fuck...we need to get her to reverse it or something. This," he waved a hand in front of Grayson's face to indicate the lusty look his brother was giving him. "is not normal!" his voice got squeaky on the last word.

Grayson forced his eyes up to Ethan's face, breathing a lot harder than usual.

Normal! Who gave a damn about normal when he was so hard he was ready to pop like warm champagne!? Normal wasn't exactly an issue for him right now with Ethan so close.

"I agree." He breathed. He was burning up, the room way too hot when he was this turned on.

Ethan flung up his arms. "Finally, you're talking sense!"

Grayson groaned as Ethan turned away to rifle through his dresser drawer to find his cellphone, offering Grayson a glorious hind view. Unable to stand the lust pooling like molten lava low in his belly, he ripped off his t-shirt and slid off the bed to step up behind Ethan. He slid his arms around Ethan's waist and moved his mouth to the spot just below Ethan's ear that he had been wanting to taste for far too long.

"No, it isn't normal to deny this, E," he whispered huskily before scraping his teeth lightly over his skin.

Ethan stiffened and dropped the phone back into his drawer as Grayson's mouth worked over his neck and every hair on his body stood on end. "Gray! Stop it, bro," he gasped and tried to pull Grayson's arms away from his waist without having to get rough.

"Gray, get off me or so help me God I will kick your ass," he stated firmly.

Grayson sighed, a puff of warm air creeping down Ethan's shirt collar and rested his forehead against the back of Ethan's neck.

"Why? Why can't we just be together? How can you deny this? It hurts so much, E. Let me love you," he whispered huskily, his tongue snaking out to slide along the rim of Ethan's ear.

At the wet touch to his ear Ethan growled and brought his arms back in a sharp jerk, catching Grayson in the ribs and causing him to let go. Ethan turned and stepped away from his brother, shuddering from head to toe. He had to shove away the guilt he felt when he caught Grayson's kicked puppy look. He had warned him, dammit, and that was hell of a lot more than anyone else would've gotten.

This was entirely too weird for his taste. Like, seriously. What the fuck did this witch do?

"Okay, 1: don't do that again and I mean ever! 2: We're brothers, Gray! Wake up! and 3: fuck, that's gross!" he emphasized the last with another shiver of disgust. Ethan backed up until he made it to the other side of the bed, the door only a few feet away just in case.

Grayson almost whined at the distance Ethan was putting between them. He ached so bad he was ready to cry if it got Ethan to give him what he needed.

"Then call somebody, E, 'cause I can't take this anymore!" he ground out, rubbing a hand over his crotch in an effort to relieve the throbbing pressure in his groin.

All he wanted to do was slam Ethan up against the wall and rut against him until he came so hard, he went blind. But Ethan didn't look like he would go for it anytime soon.

Ethan nodded and went to grab his cell again, this time he didn't turn his back on Gray, keeping a wary eye on his twin, leery of the way Grayson looked like he was ready to pounce at any second.

"I'll call the woman's number, beg her to break the curse; if she doesn't, I'm locking your ass away until you learn to keep your hands to yourself." Ethan threatened with a warning glare at Grayson when he shifted a little closer to him.

"But, Ethan, I can't help it. I need you!" Grayson cried, realizing how pathetic he sounded but not caring as he shifted his swollen cock again.

Ethan backed up another inch. "Yeah well go jerk off 'cause you ain't getting that thing anywhere near...Hi! Um, Vivian, right? Hi, I'm Ethan Dolan. My brother and I went to see you about a reading. Yes. Uh, uh. Uh, yeah we got a major..." his brain short-circuited as Grayson flopped on his bed and whipped out his dick without so much as a warning. "Majorly huge problem!"

Grayson groaned loudly as he stroked himself, eye-humping Ethan the entire time. Pressure built low in his gut and his hips snapped up eagerly as pleasure swept through him in an all-consuming tidal-wave of need.

Ethan's stomach flipped uncomfortably, and he had to turn his head away from the sight of his brother before he threw up.

"Um...yeah. He'll apologize. I thought your décor was lovely. Huh. You like me more? Thank you so much, ma'am. Yeah, that's where we live but, uh, thank you so much. I'll see you then." He pressed the off button and spun around without letting his eyes stray over his brother's straining body on his bed as he moved to the bathroom. "Hurry it up, Gray."

Ethan was almost to the bathroom and Grayson knew once he got there that door would close and leave him aching and burning with desire. "Wait! Ethan, please stay," he panted harshly. "I can't...finish without you."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up and his mouth twisted in disgust. "Really, Gray? Or is this just your way sick way of making me want to throw up? Jesus, she's coming to fix this! You should've have made fun of her curtains!"

Grayson writhed on Ethan's bed restlessly, his hand pumping furiously. "No. I really need you. Can you just c'mere a second? I won't touch you, I swear. Bro, please." He pleaded.

"Gray, bro, I'm feelin' dirty just thinking about what you're doin', why the fuck would I wanna get closer?"

"Oh God, Ethan, please!"

At Grayson's pathetic whine, Ethan inched back towards the creaking bed, not lifting his eyes from the floor once. "There. You happy?" he snapped, sounding more freaked out than angry. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"No." Grayson panted hard and arched as a shock of heat zinged up his spine. Ethan was right there, not a foot away, he could reach out and touch and the only consequence would be that Ethan would possibly vomit on him. And maybe punch him. But still something kept his free hand firmly fastened in the sweat-dampened sheets.

Ethan tapped his foot impatiently and tried to pretend this wasn't happening right now, that Grayson wasn't shirtless, his dick out and he wasn't pumping it like his life depended on it.

"Not like I got all day to stand around and be your 'inspiration,' Gray."

Grayson groaned and turned his face into the pillow. "I can't, I can't come, E. Fuck, it hurts!" he cried out in frustration, digging his heels into the mattress and using his other hand to squeeze at his swollen balls. "Please, help me come. I'll do anything you want just please," he begged mindlessly, the line between pleasure and pain beginning to blur.

Ethan shuddered violently. Now there was a sentence he never wanted to hear pass his brother's lips again. He rolled his eyes and lifted the hem of his shirt. Anything to hurry this along. The sooner Vivian was there to take back the curse, the better.

"Gray," he snapped. "Look."

Grayson's eyes opened at Ethan's command and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of all that gorgeous skin revealed to him. Ethan's abs contracted as if they could feel that Grayson wanted to lick and nibble his way over them. Grayson wanted to just throw himself at him and show him how good they would be together. How well they would fit.

Ethan's fingers slid down over his exposed stomach to tease at the string of his sweatpants and that was it. Grayson's cried out as his balls drew up tight against his body and suddenly, he was coming so hard the frame of the bed shook violently.

Ethan couldn't help but glance at the way ropes of hot white cum shot over his tanned skin and rolled across sweat-slicked muscles. His stomach did that strange flip thing again and he dashed for the bathroom, pulling the hem of his shirt down as he slammed the bathroom door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard.

Grayson gasped and shuddered as he came down from his orgasm high. Moaning softly, he sat up and looked down at the mess he'd made. His sweats were wet with sweat and clinging uncomfortably where he'd pushed them halfway down his thighs, his stomach and chest was sticky with come and his muscles were so weak he could barely move. His stomach muscles jumped as he twisted around to sit on the edge of the bed, thighs quaking as he put his feet on the floor and tried to pull his sweats back up with shaking hands.

"E?" The bathroom door was firmly shut, and Grayson was willing to bet it was locked as well. Staggering as he got up, he made his way over to the bathroom door and leaned against the doorjamb. He lifted a hand and knocked wearily on the wood. "Ethan?"

"Go away," came Ethan's muffled response.

Closing his eyes at the sound of his brother's voice, he tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling blankly. "Come on, Ethan. You can come out now. I promise not to jump you," he said with a wry grin. His spent cock gave a weak twitch, trying to make a liar out of him.

"Just leave me alone for a while, bro."

"No. Ethan," he broke off with a huff, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when he realized he still had spunk coated between his fingers. "Come on, man, open the damn door."

Ethan huffed on the other side and Grayson could just see him crossing his arms over his perfect, sculpted chest, that adorable scowl in place. Grayson's breathing hitched at the image and he mentally smacked himself.

"Why?"

"'Cause I got jizz all over me and I wanna take a shower." Grayson huffed back, desperately not thinking of Ethan joining him.

The bathroom door opened just a crack and one brown eye rimmed with thick eyelashes peeked out at him, looking him up and down warily.

"Fuck, man," Ethan gasped, opening the door further. "How'd you get it in your hair?"

Grayson opened his mouth to mumble something, but Ethan's hand shot up and he shook his head.

"Never mind."

The younger twin nodded, happy to let it go. They stood there staring at each other for a moment, neither of them making a move. Grayson's skin pinched as the come dripping down his chest began to dry, the heat of Ethan's eyes making him feel twitchy.

Finally he couldn't stand it and pressed his way into the bathroom, pushing Ethan back so he could get to the shower.

Ethan's eyes widened as his back connected with the wall and Grayson loomed closer to him, right in his personal space. He was about to shove him back when Grayson turned away and began shucking off his pants, not caring if Ethan was looking or not.

It was then they both heard the doorbell. Ding. Dong.

"I need-"

"Nope, bro," Ethan shook his head. "You're apologizing to her so she'll uncurse you."

And all Grayson could do was shove back on his fifthly clothes and with Ethan practically dragging him to the front door, was met by Vivian's smug, knowing face.


	19. Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan decides to become an erotic dancer. At first very jealous, Grayson warms to the idea when he watches Ethan perform for the first time.

19\.   
Ethan & Grayson, 21  
Top!Ethan, Bottom!Grayson

Why a guy would become a stripper was beyond Grayson's realm of comprehension.

No, scratch that.

Ethan becoming a stripper was beyond Grayson's realm of comprehension.

Wasn't he always the one who teased about going to join a Magic Mike group? Hadn't everyone said Grayson, not Ethan, was total stripper material? But, Grayson guessed, that whatever Ethan set his mind to he became obsessed with doing it. If he wanted to be a stripper than, hell, he was going to be a stripper. No matter what.

He had made that promise five months ago. Ethan had started leaving late into the night, even on the long days they filmed. Three months in Grayson finally snapped, asking where the hell Ethan kept going, totally believing he was cheating on him. Ethan answered simply enough.

"Stripping, bro."

"No way."

"Way."

And Grayson tried to halt the burn of jealously in him. It wasn't because Ethan was stripping and he wasn't. It was because other people were seeing him. Bare. Exposed.

A week ago, Ethan asked this:

"You wanna see me perform tonight?"

Grayson looked up from his laptop in the midst of editing, swallowed thickly, and said: "Sure."

-

Daddy.

When they announce his stage name, Grayson laughs. But he receives a strange look from the woman at the next table, and his laughter fades away from his lips quickly. Embarrassed, Grayson turns his attention back to the stage, the blush running up his neck toward his face anyway.

Is it because Ethan had decided to call himself Daddy, of all the stage names he couldn't picked, or was it because that, despite the darkness permeating the dusky, warm room, she had caught his face, had realized that he looked a lot like Daddy, the stripper she'd been coming to see whenever she had time on a warm, Saturday night?

It didn't matter, Grayson supposed. He wasn't here for anyone else except Daddy.

The stage lights switch on, and Grayson forgets all about his discomfort.

He has his back to the audience, and the first thing Grayson notices is the nice, very familiar round ass covered by gold briefs.

Yeah, that's right. Gold briefs.

Then he turns to face the audience, and the volume between his legs is the largest Grayson's ever seen. Yup, that's E.

And it's with an effort that he looks away to pay attention to other details of Ethan's costume. The chaps are brown, the same color as the hat and the boots, the short vest ends in the guy's ribs, leaving his broad chest and belly exposed. A red neckerchief completes the look. And what Grayson sees is tempting.

Hell, he wants to laugh too because Ethan's dressed as the stripper version of a cowboy and he doesn't know if this fact is making his horny, possessive, or embarrassed. Probably a little of all three combined.

The music is perfect for Ethan's athletic and sensual movements. Sometimes Grayson gets the impression that Ethan is fucking someone invisible on stage. He wonders if, in the midst of his dancing, Ethan is picturing Grayson under him and that allows him to move so fluently, so passionately.

Grayson can't take his eyes off him, and every time the brown gaze meets his as Ethan grinds into the floor, it makes his body hot and flushed. He wishes they weren't in a room full of people. He wishes Ethan was doing this in their own home and without so many eyes upon him.

But, at the same time, it's hot. It's hot because it's like they are holding a secret. 'Cause every one of these people can watch Ethan, but none of them get to have him like Grayson.

Each piece of clothing that is taken off increases Grayson's excitement; Ethan is all slim muscles, skin, and masculinity as he dances. By the time he gets off the stage, Grayson can barely think straight, lost in his tattoos, his hips, his movement. His smell. Hell, he can smell Ethan from where he's sitting. He smells like his signature perfume: silky almonds and toasty vanilla and something that's just so raw and primal; it's sweat and movement and want.

Daddy teases some women, simulating oral sex or sitting on their laps, and within seconds his waistband is full of hundred-dollar bills. And suddenly, all Grayson feels is jealousy. He wants to be the only one to touch every inch of that shiny skin. He wants to pull Ethan against his chest, tell him he's not allowed to dance for anybody except him.

As if by magic, his wish is fulfilled, and he's his lap occupied by Ethan, who is now wearing only the gold briefs, boots, and the neckerchief.

Up close, Ethan is stunning under the dark lights of the club: sweaty, face flushed, full lips made even fuller, and Grayson thinks he can spot a little bit of glitter on his chest, like a fairy had rubbed pure shininess against him. But perhaps it's just the gleam of sweat. Whatever it is, Grayson wants to take Ethan by the hips and lick him, tasting the glitter, the sweat, his thudding heartbeat and the warm blood flowing through his veins. He looks up at Ethan's face, watches his eyes roll back in his head.

Ethan's movements on his lap are pornographic, and a mischievous smile shows as the crowd screams and encourages them. Unable to move, Grayson just looks, intensely aware of the improper erection between his legs and the way Ethan isn't quite looking at his face. Or course not. He's a fuckin' tease.

Rolling his hip back and forth against Grayson's cock, Ethan nibbles Grayson's earlobe before getting off his lap.

The crowd cheers again as he returns to the stage, and Grayson feels his face flushes when he remembers his hard member. Closing his legs fast, he puts his hands on his lap, even though everyone is paying attention to Ethan on stage.

When the performance ends, the crowd applauds enthusiastically, and the stage is filled with money by the time people calm down.

Grayson takes a little longer to get presentable again. But as soon as it happens, he stands and walks toward the dressing rooms where Ethan told him to meet him after the show.

Grayson is still floored with Ethan's skill, how he moved like he was born to strip, like it was in his blood. And all Grayson can think is this: he needs to have this stripper just as he needs air to breathe.

A knock on the door and it opens. Grayson is pulled into the dressing room, and his back slams against the door, knocking the air out of his lungs. Soft lips mash against his, and a tongue invades his mouth, fucking with the same energy that he showed on stage.

Caught off guard, Grayson takes a few seconds to respond to the kiss. When that happens, though, every accumulated desire breaks like an erupting volcano. He pushes back hungrily, and the stubble against his skin is a reminder that this is finally happening. Ethan is practically fucking Grayson's mouth with his tongue. The grip on Grayson's hair is firm, and it keeps his head where Ethan wants it, although Grayson's no intention of escaping. It's like he has never been kissed with such intensity before, and within seconds it feels like he's hopelessly in love again. It feels like the first time Ethan had ever kissed him. It's hungry and passionate, consumed with hard, raw want.

Then Grayson remembers the aching erection between his legs and moves one hand, grabbing one of Ethan's buttocks over the black satin robe he is wearing. Everything stops, though. Confused, he looks into the most intense eyes he's ever seen in his life.

"Hands against the wall, darling. This will be my way or won't be at all."

Oh, so they're roleplaying.

Grayson knows that voice from anywhere. It's Ethan's I'm-not-Ethan-Dolan-right-now voice used an embarrassingly large number of times in the bedroom. It's hot, though. Especially when his twin acts like this: dominant, controlling, possessive.

Ethan barely finishes the last word, and Grayson is already obeying him, putting his hands against the wall.

Darling.

The nickname isn't creative, but it doesn't matter at the moment. Grayson will take whatever Ethan has to give, even if it means being called darling or any other nickname.

"Perfect." Ethan doesn't hide his satisfaction, a small smile forming on his face. And he is fucking gorgeous like this: a mix of raw masculine with a dash of subtle feminine. It's a perfect combination.

When the solid body is against Grayson again, the delicious pressure over his groin makes his legs weak, even more when one hand goes back to his hair and the other starts opening his pants.

"I saw you watching me," Ethan whispers against his ear, and the goosebumps forming on his hot skin are uncontrollable.

"I saw you eating me with your eyes. It was easy to imagine all the dirty things that were going through your mind. I could see what you wanted to do to me."

The first touch of warm fingers on Grayson's cock has him struggling to avoid squirming. A moan leaves his lips anyway. Ethan turns his head to the side, is looking into his eyes while exploring the length of his member. The pressure of his fingers is perfect, but Grayson wants to beg for more; he needs more.

"Wow. You're so big. Maybe I should call you Daddy instead." Ethan says with a smirk.

Grayson lets out a low, desperate moan, his heavy, well sculpted biceps bulging as he clutches to the wall desperately, trying to fight the urge to grab Ethan's hips.

"When I saw you in the crowd, I already knew how our night was going to end."

"Please," Grayson finally begs.

Ethan smiles.

"Already begging, darling?"

He shudders when fingers play with his slit, spreading the pre-come so slowly that it makes Grayson want to rub against him, like some wild animal in the midst of a heavy heat.

"C'mon." Comes Grayson's desperate whine; it's a sacred sound that Grayson only gives to Ethan and Ethan only. Nobody else can make him whine.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to be more articulate than that."

It's hard to talk and think under all the attention Grayson's getting, though, only the tip of two fingers circling the head of his member now.

"Please, I need," Grayson licks his lips.

"What do you want, baby?"

Grayson's cock is throbbing in his hand.

"Your mouth...cock...everything. Please," Grayson says. The member that he hasn't touched yet or had the pleasure of seeing in this way, in a foreign place, away from the privacy of their house or bedrooms. Moaning, Grayson flexes the fingers of his hands, imagining taking Ethan in his hands, but dares not move them away from the wall.

"Say my name."

Bemused, Grayson looks at him, meeting his eyes blown so wide in the lust that they're nearly black. As far as he remembers, he's pretty sure he knows what Ethan's name is.

"Stage name."

Of course.

Grayson's thick, hefty balls are next to get his attention. Squeezing, poking, prodding.

"Daddy," he whispers huskily, meeting Ethan's eyes and licking his lips.

With a pleased smile Ethan grabs his forearm and Grayson allows him to turn him around. He is now facing the wall, his pants and underwear piled up on his ankle. A needy moan escapes from Grayson's mouth in response to his show of dominance. And the solid body against his back makes him even more in need of it.

"Do you know what that means?"

Absolutely, especially when he finally feels his member rubbing between his buttocks.

"Yeah," he chokes out.

The urgency grows each time the leaking tip of his member rubs over Grayson's quivering hole.

"And I imagine it's what you want since you saw me on stage. You wanna be my baby?"

For a moment, Grayson is too aroused to even respond, but he keeps prodding.

Grayson lets out a shaky breath as Ethan whispers in his ears, "No, huh? You wanna fuck me, yeah? You wanna bust my ass open and just take me here? Pound into me so hard I can't feel a thing, hands against this way, making me scream your name in pleasure? Or do you want it the other way, darlin'? Do you want me to be your Daddy? Which one is it?"

"Please...fuck me," Grayson breathes.

His hands open Grayson's buttocks further, forcing only the head of his member inside him. He arches his ass in anticipation and moans at what feels like the hundredth time tonight. No one has ever had this devastating effect on him, and he loves every second of it. Ethan is the only person Grayson will ever submit to fully, wholly.

By the time Grayson notices two fingers in front of his mouth, his husky voice says against his ear, "I suggest you wet them well because it's all the lube you're gonna get, honey."

Grayson's mouth drops open instantly, and he sucks the long fingers into his mouth like he's eating him, wetting them efficiently, wishing it was the cock still between his buttocks. Maybe another time. And it's not strange at all he's already thinking about the next time.

The guy inserts his saliva-soaked fingers into Grayson's ass and begins to work on his prostate in seconds. This is good, he feels full already and the fingers preparing him are much smaller than the member that will be inside him before the night is over. Inevitably, pleasure and heat spread through his body, and it affects his perception, which only returns when he stares at the member for the first time.

Ethan! Man, what did you do?

Grayson doesn't know when he loses his clothes or how he ended up lying on a table, naked and with his legs spread. A large mirror on his right makes everything more visible. And it's crazy and fascinating at the same time to know that Ethan has this surreal power over him, the power to affect his emotions with such intensity.

Dropping the satin robe on the floor, Ethan gets naked too. He's glorious, the member between his tatted legs pointing forward, hard and ready for Grayson. And Grayson just lies there, watches as Ethan walks toward him, determined and hungry, standing between Grayson's legs like he belongs there. His legs open of their own accord, allowing access to the most intimate part of his body.

The first push inside has Grayson clenching his teeth, the lack of lubrication making penetration difficult.

"Relax," Ethan says as he caresses the side of Grayson's left hip.

Grayson swallows thickly. He takes a deep breath, and his body finally relaxes after a few seconds, though he's shaking by the time his member is buried to the hilt. Then Grayson realizes that Ethan is inside him again, every inch of his throbbing hot meat invading his insides. And there is no time to adjust because the impulses begin immediately, and Grayson's breath is punched out of him.

"Oh, fuck..." he whimpers as he arches his ass to receive his vigorous thrusts.

Flesh slaps on flesh in the same dizzying rhythm of the music playing and that Grayson can still hear inside the room. Ethan hits his sweet spot repeatedly.

"You gotta see yourself. You're so good at taking me, baby."

It sounds dirty in Ethan's mouth. But the feeling this is dirty, and that he is being used, doesn't bother Grayson at all. This was what he wanted when he knocked on the dressing room door. He knows it now.

And you're good at taking me, too, E.

"Look at the mirror."

It's big fucking mirror that Grayson had forgotten. Turning his head, he looks at Ethan on top of him before facing his own reflection. His hair is a mess, lips swollen from the previous rough kiss, skin glistening with sweat, and dick hard and full and leaking against his toned stomach. He doesn't recognize this debauched version of himself, although he loves every detail of what he sees.

"Shit, you're so fuckin' handsome. So fuckin' big and beefy."

The relentless impulses hitting his prostate make it hard to talk. Grayson just moans in response because no one can wait for consistency from a person being fucked into next week.

"All fucked out and needy."

Facing him in the mirror again, Grayson can't control more indecent moans coming out of his mouth. Then capable hands maneuver Grayson on his side, not having doubt Ethan knows how to use all the power and stability he has for his own benefit.

"Look at that."

The hand on his neck raises Grayson's head, and his only option is to face what is happening through the mirror.

"You're so fuckin' hot. Fuckin' beefcake. You could probably break me in a second and yet here you are lying down all pliant and letting me take you."

And Grayson is. The mirror doesn't lie, much less the whimpers coming out of his open mouth with every impulse of Ethan's controlled thrust. The panting, flushed, pleasured, helpless expression he sees reflected in the mirror is no cause for shame, however. On the contrary, that enhances Grayson's arousal, leaving him on edge.

"Mmm, no."

One hand holds the base of Grayson's erection. He's so close to coming. Grayson moans in frustration.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Grayson turns his eyes to the other male but he's pleading look doesn't work; Ethan smiles smugly at him before pulling out of his ass and manhandling his sweaty body. Grayson shouldn't feel so empty and incomplete. And yet he does.

He's put on his back again and his legs are closed, which allows his ankles to be supported on Ethan's left shoulder. Then there's an arm around Grayson's legs, just below his knee, while one hand holds tight to his thigh. He feels his member sinking completely into him again, nice and hot, filling spaces that should never be empty.

"Open up...Yeah...Open up. All the way," he says as he resumes his thrusts.

"Fuck yeah...fuck me." Grayson can't help the whines that slip past his lips.

This time Grayson takes the initiative to look in the mirror. And it hides nothing in this position, showing in detail the familiar member going in and out of his ass. He has never seen anything so erotic and indecent at the same time.

"Impale me on that big cock," Grayson says without thinking. And he's a little stunned by it.

Dirty talk isn't something that is part of his vocabulary when it comes to sex. That's something Ethan usually does. And he's good at it too.

Ethan looks at him with curiosity that quickly turns into a cocky grin.

"That's dirty, Gray."

"Give me everything you have," Grayson demands with an air of entitlement, though he can't keep the heat from rising his neck toward his face.

The fingers on his jaw are gentle, a real contrast to the speed of the intense pace imposed. Grayson has the impression that those brown eyes can see through his soul.

"That color looks great on you."

Against all the odds, Grayson blushes even more, the heat spreading across his body.

But that doesn't stop him from saying what he wants, "Ohh...fuck me."

"Well, I thought that was what I've been doing for the last fifteen minutes."

The change of pace is so sudden that it makes Grayson growl in frustration. There is nothing but long and slow impulses. He removes his member completely and penetrates him again, driving Grayson crazy with need.

"Touch yourself. I wanna see."

"Okay," Grayson says; he's eager to comply, spitting on his right hand before wrapping it on his throbbing erection. He starts with slower, longer strokes, following Ethan's lead. With his left hand, he pinches one of his own nipples, all under the intense scrutiny of his dark eyes.

A hand joins his, and Grayson gasps with the sensation.

"So hard and wet for me."

And he's about to explode again.

The coordination between their hands and the thrusts is perfect.

"But it's not time yet."

Fingers pressing at the base of Grayson's cock reinforce his warning. Biting his lower lip, Grayson covers his hand with his own, and it takes torturous seconds until he can control his urge to come.

"So obedient. I like it."

Yeah, Grayson can be submissive. But only ever with Ethan. And Ethan, at the same time, is only acquiescent with him. Ethan has always been the ideal match for this part of Grayson's passive nature. Grayson, too, is the perfect contest for Ethan's occasional bouts of docility.

It's so fuckin' perfect it hurts.

"I always love the muscular ones. I love everything I can do with them." Ethan says with a smile, not breaking the roleplay.

As if to prove his point, Ethan opens Grayson's legs again. Then there's a hand under Grayson's neck, pulling him up. Grayson can barely stand on his left forearm when he crushes full lips against his. It's more than a kiss; Ethan devours his mouth while going impossibly deep inside him. All he can do is moan and wish this sweet torture never ends.

"Next time," he says against his mouth, "I'll fuck you on that stage, in front of everyone. I want everyone to see how much you like it."

Next time.

Grayson likes the sound of that, even though public sex isn't something he wants to try. He really doesn't want either of them getting outed. That would not look good for their YouTube channel.

The hand on his neck moves to his waist, and it's all the leverage he needs to fuck Grayson again at a hard pace. The tone of Grayson's groans rises as he nears his climax. And this time he knows he can't stop it.

"Come for me, Gray."

And that's when Grayson's body shudders, and his orgasm tears through him overwhelmingly. It has never been so intense before. At least, it hasn't been this intense for a long, long time. He squeezes his eyes shut, contracting his inner muscles and thighs as he enjoys the pleasure flooding every cell in his body.

There are hips that keep pistoling between his legs, and words still come out of his mouth. But Grayson can't hear them. Opening his eyes, Grayson watches his beautiful, full lips move but doesn't understand what is being said, nor does he really care. He wants to savor every second of it, wants to dissolve into pleasure.

A little consistency just comes back by the time the guy's impulses get erratic. So, he's aware of nails leaving bruises on his sweaty skin as Ethan holds him still.

The member inside him twitches. After that, he groans loudly, stopping his movements, and Grayson feels warmth filling his insides. He shudders at the sensation, and it doesn't take long for him start feeling it leaking from his entrance. Fortunately, he's still boneless enough not to worry about the mess down there. His cock lays spent against his groin, and a satisfied smile forms on his lips, even knowing he'll be sore and aching for a week.

Suddenly, there is an added weight on him. Grayson's biggest concern isn't the difficulty in breathing, though, but the actual possibility of the table breaking with the weight of two large men on it.

"Wow, Gray. That was a big one, huh?" Ethan says against his neck, and hair tickles Grayson's nose.

"You feel heavy, dude. And the table won't hold both of us." He knows he's whining, but someone must be reasonable in this situation.

"Just like you to break the mood, asshat." Despite the complaint, Ethan doesn't get off him, getting up on his forearms to face Grayson. "Some compliment to my performance would be good."

He seems disappointed.

"I didn't even know you could dance, E."

And it's true. Grayson had no idea that his twin–the very personification of somebody desperately trying to prove his masculinity in his own way–could dance. And very well, after all.

Ethan hadn't been messing around. Whenever he says he's going to do something, he does it.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Ethan raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Although his attempt to look mysterious and sexy doesn't work, Grayson indulges him, "Well, I want to know everything, Ethan. Each detail."

"Don't worry. The stripper will tell you everything. I'm the stripper, by the way. In case you couldn't tell."

And Ethan seems serious about that.

"Idiot," Grayson laughs. Then Ethan's softening dick escapes from his ass, and Grayson frowns.

Ethan notices it, of course.

"I love seeing the result of a good job."

Grayson's frown is now for a totally different reason.

"Dumbass. Get off me. All those veggie burgers you eat isn't doing well for you."

Now it's his turn to frown. Ethan wrinkles his nose in irritation.

"I didn't see you complaining while you got fucked."

Good point.

"Besides that. My roleplaying ideas are always better than the disasters you suggest."

The bang on the door makes them startle.

"Shit," Grayson curses at the same time as Ethan.

"It's security! Open the door! Mr. Dolan? Are you in there? We've had a complaint of an intruder backstage!"

"Yeah, Ethan. Your ideas are brilliant."


	20. Food Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson gets food poisoning while on a spontaneous road trip. Ethan is there to look after him.

They aren't supposed to be here.

Hell, anyone can tell that from a mile away.

And yet, here they are.

Ethan slowly drives Smooth Cat along a street in a suburban development called Happy Trails. Grayson looks out at all the new houses under construction, some just skeletons, the bare bones. Others are complete, but still look so naked with no cars parked in the driveway. He thinks in another life, a life in which they hadn't gotten YouTube famous, he'd be a construction worker. Grayson thinks he liked it too: the sweat, the movement, the creation. Grayson swallows thickly, placing a hand on his stomach.

He doesn't think he could ever live in a neighbor like this. Totally boring. It would be nice to sleep in one of those houses tonight, though. Away from L.A. and away from the bullshit and away from the stress.

That was the whole point of this road trip; they just never expected to get so lost that they'd end up in some half-constructed housing development.

They have sleeping bags in the back, a plan to camp out in the middle of nowhere... but sleeping on the carpet in a new house sounds awesome to Grayson right now. Really. He's totally willing to break into one of these houses just to get some damn relief.

Ever since dinner he hasn't been feeling very good. He stomach is upset, and he is grumpy and tired. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten two greasy vegan burgers for dinner. Ethan had warned him not to, but he had been so hungry after skipping lunch, much to Ethan's silent disappointment. Who knew that something as healthy sounding as "vegan" can make somebody want to puke their guts out? Maybe that place was a little too sus.

Grayson pats Ethan on the shoulder and points to one of the houses. "Hey, pull in there."

Although looking a bit confused at the suggestion, Ethan does.

"Why are we stopping here, bro?"

Grayson runs a hand through his hair, licking his lips and trying to ignore the building nausea at the pit of his stomach. Ethan blinks and says, "Gray? This house is empty."

"That's the idea. I want to try out the shower."

He is hoping relaxing in the steam will make him feel better. He can't be getting sick. They have shit to do when they get back and Grayson has a bad feeling that perhaps what he has may be food poisoning. Now that would really suck.

"What?! We can't just break into a house, Gray. Are you on fuckin' crack?"

Grayson slips out of the car and pulls the garage door up with ease, finding it unlocked. The warm wind gently beats against his face and hair, cooling him and warming him all at the same time; the air smells fresh and unlike the beachy quality of southern California, it's almost sweet. Nauseatingly sweet. Grayson is holding it over his head so he can pull it back down quickly after Ethan parks the Tesla in the garage.

Ethan yells out the car window at Grayson.

"Gray! I'm serious, bro. This is dumb." He turns his head back and forth as if they are a thousand eyes watching them from every direction. In reality, there's none. It's completely void of people. Only the black eyes of crows meet his from a nearby maple tree.

"What if somebody sees us? Have you ever heard of the term squatting, Gray? This," Ethan lets out an annoyed breath, "this is illegal, dude."

Grayson yells back. "Hurry up! For fuck sakes, Ethan, it isn't a big deal!"

Ethan sighs and starts driving into the garage. Grayson isn't paying attention to him; he is scanning the street. He doesn't see Ethan bring his arm out of the window and punch him in the gut. He feels it though and it fucking hurts. He lets go of the garage door and leans over holding his stomach with his other hand braced against the wall.

Ethan opens the door and looks back at his brother. "What the hell, bro, I didn't punch you that hard."

Grayson straightens ups and growls at Ethan. "Close the garage door. I am going to take a shower."

Oddly enough, it doesn't feel weird squatting in a house.

It's kind of scary how nonchalant Grayson is as he makes his way into the living room, finding the stairs and begins the long ascent, holding onto the rail.

Although Grayson doesn't know that much about houses, he knows a lot about construction, and he guessed the moment he saw it that it must be the display model. It's meant to look nice and pretty, so people will get the jist of what the other houses on the block are supposed to look like. He opens the door to the master bedroom. Yup, there is a king-sized bed made up nice and neat with little decorative pillows. Grayson can't help but smile a little, imagining sleeping side by side with Ethan. They can sleep in a clean bed tonight instead of on the floor. That's a win in his book.

Grayson walks into the bathroom and feels a little less grumpy when he sees how big the steam shower is. It isn't quite like the one at their house, but it will do. There are fluffy white towels and a robe with slippers, meant to simulate the perfect suburban life. Nice bed, nice shower, nice clothes.

Under the soft bathroom lights, Grayson stripes off all his clothes-tight fitting t-shirt, dark burgundy sweatpants, and then his sneakers. Lastly are his socks and then his Rolex watch that he puts down on the edge of the sink; stepping into the shower there's a coolness sensation to the floor that runs up the length of Grayson's body. He breathes, gasping when the rush of water-cold-splashing onto him. Turning the knob, he finds the right setting. Grayson stands under the warm spray and lets the water run down his back, running his hands over his belly and gritting his teeth when he feels a painful cramp. He feels bloated and gross. Ethan punching him seems to have cranked the pain level up in his stomach by 10.

Fuckin' dumbass.

Grayson is about to turn off the shower and get the steam going when Ethan enters the bathroom.

"Hey, I brought you some shampoo and body wash."

Although he knows that this is Ethan's own way of saying he's sorry, Grayson doesn't respond. He watches from the clouded curtain as he strips off his clothes, folding them neatly on top of the closed toilet seat and then slipping into the shower with him.

Grayson doesn't shove him away when he slides his arms around his waist from behind and gently rubs Grayson's stomach. Ethan kisses the back of Grayson's shoulder, softly and cautiously like he doesn't know how Grayson is going to react, and murmurs, "I'm sorry for hitting you in the stomach."

Ethan rubs little circles around Grayson's belly button. "Your stomach feels really bloated. Did you eat too much?"

Grayson doesn't respond, just closes his eyes, relaxing at Ethan's gentle movements; Ethan has always been great about calming him down, especially with his touch.

"Gray, do you think you're getting sick?"

Grayson leans against his chest but is careful not to lean too far back and cause Ethan to fall with the pressure of his weight.

Licking his lips and closing his eyes tighter, Grayson says, "I don't know."

"Feeling tired?"

"Ummhmm."

Ethan frowns and says, "Bro, let's get washed up and head to bed, 'kay. Man, I hope you didn't catch something."

Grayson just makes a small hum of agreement, feeling even more exhausted than after doing a full body workout.

Ethan squirts the fresh-smelling shampoo into Grayson's dark hair and after lathering it up, washes it out for him. Having him turn in his arms to face him, he gets to work on Grayson's body, being extra gentle when he runs his soapy hands over Grayson's stomach. He quickly washes himself off then turns off the shower and starts the steam function. Grayson turns away from him once again, opening his eyes and breathing through his nose, but doesn't resist him when he feels Ethan's hand on his forearm. He turns Grayson around again and pulls him into a soft, intimate hug. The steam feels warm and relaxing and Grayson leans his forehead against the side of Ethan's warm, wet throat, closing his eyes. Feeling Grayson's bloated belly press up against his flat stomach, Ethan frowns. He is slightly concerned he has never seen Grayson's stomach this big and swollen before. He runs his hands up and down Grayson's back and hums a song. Kid Cudi.

Grayson opens his eyes and glares, breathing against the side of Ethan's neck, mouth right on top of his pulse point, feeling the soothing rhythm against his lips, "I'm not a baby, you know."

"Really. You sure have been acting grumpy tonight. I can't see the difference."

Grayson groans and presses his forehead into Ethan's neck deeper, nuzzling him. He removes his hands from Ethan's waist and wraps his arms around his own stomach.

"Well you would be grumpy too, bro," he breathes against him. "It feels like I am getting stabbed in the gut. These cramps fucking hurt. When you punched me, I almost threw up."

Ethan shuts the steam off and reaches his arm out of the curtain to feel for towel, handing Grayson it when he pulls it off the hanger.

"Ok, ok, I guess you have a good reason to be grumpy. I'm really sorry for hitting you, bro. No cap. You know I would never have done that if you just told me you had a stomachache, right?"

"Oh, so what it's my fault for not telling you?"

"Grayson, I didn't mean that. I-"

"Whatever, I am going to bed." Grayson grumbles coldly.

Grayson dries himself off while ignoring Ethan who stands there, soaking wet and waiting for Grayson to be done so he can use it. After Grayson tosses him the soft material, he makes his way into the master bedroom, leaving Ethan to dry off by himself.

Grayson doesn't hesitate as he flops down on that big, soft model house bed completely naked, limbs stretch out like a washed-up starfish. He glances at the end of the bed, notes that Ethan has brought their travel bags into the room, and closes his eyes. He hears Ethan as he makes his way into the room and then there is a zipper being unzipped. He opens one eye. There's Ethan holding a pair of sweats in his hand-his own pair.

"Gray, come on, stand up. Can you at least put some pants on, bro? What if there's like some security guard or something and our asses have to book out of here real fast?"

Grayson doesn't hesitate, holding his arms out to Ethan.

"Help me up?" Ethan heaves Grayson to his feet and hands him the sweatpants. Grayson slowly pulls the sweatpants on but leaves them low down on his hips so they aren't putting any pressure on his belly. He crawls back into bed and pulling the comforter over himself, turns his back on Ethan.

Ethan shuts the lights off and sits down on the edge of the bed. He stares at the shadowy lump that is his twin brother. Does Grayson want to be left alone? Or, does he want his comfort? Which one is it?!

Unlike him, Grayson rarely gets sick but when he does, he's withdrawn and moody. Basically, a bitch to deal with. Ethan is about to go downstairs and look through the house just for the hell of it when Grayson rolls over to face him.

"E, what're you doing? Come to bed."

"I thought you were mad at me and maybe wanted to sleep alone tonight."

Grayson holds his hand out to Ethan and says, "No, bro, I'm not mad at you. Sorry. I just hate feeling like this. I feel like shit. My stomach is killing me. I haven't felt this bad in a long time."

Ethan pulls the blankets back and slides into bed behind him. He pulls Grayson gently back against his chest and kisses the back of his neck. He starts rubbing his hand in soothing circles over Grayson's stomach, trying to comfort him the best way he knows how.

"That feels good. Can you hum that song again?"

Ethan lets out a small laugh. Wow, Grayson really must feel like shit if he's willing to be so vulnerable. Sure, there's plenty of times in which Grayson has shown vulnerability around Ethan, but Gray has always tried to be solid, like a rock. Tough. Like Ethan can depend on him and not the other way around. But, Ethan guesses, he doesn't want to be tough or "manly" or relentless right now. He just wants a bit of comfort and support and love.

"Sure." He starts humming and can feel Grayson's bloated stomach gurgling under is palm. He is about to ask Grayson if he wants Pepto or a hot water bottle when he hears Grayson start to snore quietly. Ethan smiles, glad he can make Grayson feel better, so he himself can get some sleep. He rests his lips against his nape and closes his eyes.

-

"Ethan. Ethan. Wake up, bro. E..."

Grayson is calling his name. Ethan jerks awake. It is still dark outside. It must be in the middle of the night, he thinks, and Grayson is still calling his name. Softly, desperate. Like some wounded animal. Ethan switches on the bedside lamp and sees Grayson sitting on the edge of the bed. One hand on his stomach the other hand holding his head. "Ethan, can you help me into the bathroom? I think I am going to be sick."

Ethan jumps out of the bed and kneels in front of his brother, noticing the sweat on his forehead, on his throat, his chest. "Hey, hey its ok, Gray. Put your arm over my shoulder."

Ethan helps pull Grayson to his feet and wraps his arm around his waist, guiding Grayson towards the bathroom. There, Grayson abruptly pushes away from him causing Ethan to be pushed back, his arms outstretched to catch himself before he hits the wall, watching as Grayson falls to his knees in front of the toilet. He starts gagging, but nothing comes up. Bare arms shaking and tears in his eyes, Grayson leans over the bowl, panting erratically: "Oh god," Grayson closes his eyes, tries to breathe through his nose, "fuck, E, my stomach hurts so fucking bad."

Ethan pushes off the wall and kneels beside his brother, rubbing Grayson's back gently.

"I know, Gray. You'll be ok. You're okay. Just let it out." He says soothingly, running one hand up and down his spine, stilling on his lion tattoo.

Grayson gags again and this time he starts throwing up. He finds he can't stop. Not for anything. Not for the whole world. And Ethan is there the whole time, unflinching, continuing to comfort him through it, whispering softly against him, lips on the back of his neck at one point, continuing to rub his back.

After fifteen minutes, Grayson is dry heaving over the bowl and Ethan has to hold him up; he struggles with it, tries to get Grayson to hold his own weight, but he finds that he's too ill. He just can't. Grayson is so tired he just wants to go back to the soft comfort of that bed. He just wants to sleep for a hundred years, to do anything to make the pain go away. After a minute, Ethan manages to get he and Grayson to lean against the side of the wide bathtub, to breathe together. 

Grayson runs his hand over his belly and rests against Ethan's side beside the bathtub, allowing him to comfort him, to press against him, like they are one person instead of two. There's toilet paper. Thank God Ethan managed to grab some before they scooted back and away from the mess of the toilet bowl.

Grayson wipes off his mouth with some toilet paper and leans back into Ethan, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I think I am done barfing," Grayson croaks after a minute of silence and looks down at his stomach. "Fuck, E, why I am still so bloated?"

He presses his fingertips into his belly and winces. "Oh, this fuckin' sucks, bro."

Ethan runs his fingers through Grayson's sweaty hair. Snatching the towel from the hanger he uses it to rub the sweat off Grayson's face and back. Grayson lets him, closing his eyes at the gentle comfort that is Ethan.

"I think maybe you got food poisoning from those burgers. You feel warm. I think you got a fever, Gray. Want to get back into bed now? Will you help me move you?"

"Ummmmah."

That's the only reply he receives.

Ethan helps Grayson into bed and glances at the puked-out bowl. Shit, he thinks as they make their way onto the bed, and grabs for his phone on the nightstand. It reads 4:00. They need to be out of here in a couple hours before the construction workers show up. Ethan sets the alarm on his phone to six and whispers, "Gray, you asleep?"

He doesn't get a response, so he lies down close to his brother. He doesn't mean to, but Ethan ends up drifting off to sleep, despite silently promising himself that he'd stay up.

-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

A faded light is starting to seep around the edges of the blinds when Ethan's alarm goes off. It's the sweet sunlight of a new morning, bright against the off-white shade of the barrier between the outside world and the two lying forms on that spacious king-sized bed.

He rolls over, yawns with the exhaustion clinging to his body, and rubs Grayson's shoulder.

"Hey, Gray, we have to get up and get out of here soon. We probably have about half an hour before the worker's show up, bud."

All he gets from Grayson is a groan.

"I know this sucks but do you think you can get dressed now...please?

Ethan quickly throws his clothes on, then cleans up the bathroom, making sure the towels are folded and hung up and the toilet is flushed. When he walks back into the bedroom, Grayson has his t-shirt on and is pulling on his clean, back up blue jeans. Ethan starts trying to make the bed the way he remembers it from last night.

He is arranging the pillows when he hears Grayson say, "Ethan."

Ethan eyes the pillows. They don't look right. Dammit! He throws all the bigger ones behind the smaller ones and tries to arrange them again. He looks over at his twin when he repeats his name.

"What? Do you feel like puking again?"

Grayson leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. "No, I am not gonna barf again. I just....ummm.. gotta use the bathroom before we leave."

Ethan grabs both their duffel bags and waits by the bedroom door for him. He pulls the blinds aside and looks out the window after a few minutes, jittering with nervous energy. What would it look like if they got caught squatting? Ethan shutters at the headlines racing in his head: Millionaire YouTubers Get Arrested for Squatting in Abandoned Arizona Housing Addition. Or worse: The Dolan Twins Are Free Loaders. Ever Heard of a Hotel?!

"Grayson, hurry up! We need to leave. I don't want us getting arrested for squatting!"

Grayson walks out of the bathroom looking both angry and embarrassed all at the same time. It's not a good look on him. He mumbles, "I can't get my jeans done up."

"What?"

Grayson pulls up his shirt. "Look at my fucking stomach."

Ethan stares at Grayson's belly. It is still bloated like had been a few hours ago. Grayson's stomach is usually nice and flat and toned. Fuck, it's usually more toned than his. Of course, he can't get his jeans buttoned up. He's way too bloated.

Ethan pulls Grayson's shirt down and gently rubs is palm back and forth over his stomach.

"Are you still in pain? Do you want to put your sweats back on? Your jeans don't look very comfortable."

Grayson shakes his head. "Nah, let's get out of here. I'll just hold my jeans up. I guess..."

Ethan has an idea. "Gray, wait."

He takes Grayson's belt out of his bag and loops it through his jeans. Then he buckles the belt on the last notch, leaving it lose around Grayson's middle. "That should keep your jeans up. Does it feel ok?"

Grayson gives Ethan a tired smile. "Yeah, this works. Thanks, E."

Ethan wraps his arm around Grayson's waist and helps him down the stairs and into the Tesla. He pulls up the garage door and peaks his head out, looking up and down the street. No action yet: the street and houses are still deserted. Thank God. There's only the caw, caw, caw of the morning crows. Only their black eyes watch Ethan silently from the maple tree.

Ethan climbs in the driver's seat and looks over at his twin who is slumped against the door, sleeping with his head resting on the window. Ethan backs the Tesla out of the garage and runs back to close the garage door securely closed. Ethan silently prays that when the sale's staff show up, they won't notice anything out of place. That'd be a miracle.

Ethan drives back into town and parks in front of a vegetarian restaurant he saw yesterday. If Grayson is hungry when he wakes up, he needs to eat something for breakfast before they head back home, their trip (obviously) cut short. Ethan takes out his phone and looks for anything online, trying to make out any descriptions of Grayson's illness. After two hours the restaurant has opened, Ethan has found nothing but the word FOOD POISONING, and Grayson is still fast asleep. Ethan is getting bored and if he's being honest, he's starving. Does he risk waking Grayson up? Ethan let's Grayson sleep another half hour then shakes him awake, finally not able to take the silence, his phone nearly dead.

"Gray, wake up. It's almost ten. Hey, wake up."

Grayson slaps at Ethan's hands. "Fuck off. I am awake."

Ethan sighs loudly. Grayson gets super grumpy when's he's sick. This is just one example.

"How's your stomach? You didn't answer me before. Does it still hurt?"

"I need some coffee." Grayson says, sitting up and hunching forward. He runs his fingers through his hair then holds his head in his hands.

"Gray?"

"Yes, my stomach still fucking hurts."

"Are you having cramps like last night?"

"No, not anymore. My stomach just feels sore." Grayson leans back against the seat and rubs his hands over his lower abdomen. "It hurts the most down here."

Ethan scoots closer to Grayson and wraps his arm around his shoulder. Grayson leans his head against Ethan and says, "I hate being sick. I feel so useless."

Grayson looks down at his stomach. "I hope I can get my jeans done up tomorrow. I feel so uncomfortable, bro...uugg my gut feels huge."

Ethan frowns. "Yeah, it is kinda strange that your stomach is still this bloated. You know, since you threw up everything you ate last night."

Ethan presses his hand to Grayson's forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever anymore. You'll probably feel better in a couple days. Those burgers must have been really off."

Grayson opens the car door. "Ethan, please don't talk about burgers. Let's get you some breakfast. I don't know if I can eat but you need it."

Once they are seated Grayson looks over the menu.

"Is this place vegetarian?"

"Yeah, I saw it on the way here. It's great, right? I thought this would help."

"Fine, whatever," Grayson says dismissively. "I'll just have a coffee."

"Grayson, you can't just have coffee! That will definitely make your stomach more upset. How about a banana smoothie and some toast?"

"Ahhh, come on, E. I need my coffee and I don't want smoothies."

Grumpy, stubborn ass.

The waitress appears, smiling at Grayson. "Are you ready to order?"

Grayson doesn't smile back. He grunts.

"Coffee. Black."

Ethan smiles at the waitress. "Just ignore him. He isn't feeling well. He'll have the banana smoothie and plain toast. I'll have the avocado omelet with tea."

The waitress gives Ethan a big smile.

"I'll get your orders in right away."

Grayson sighs and glares at Ethan but doesn't argue with him about the order. Ethan can tell Grayson is holding his stomach under the table and he looks tired. His eyes are red rimmed from all the barfing and dry heaving he did last night.

"Yeah, you are probably right about the coffee."

As they wait for their food, Ethan asks, "You doing ok?"

"No," Grayson admits. "I wanna head home."

"We will. After we eat."

"And then," Grayson says, laying his head on his palm. "No more veggie burgers for a while."

Ethan nods, "Yeah and no more squatting."

And although Grayson really isn't in the mood to smile, he can't help but give a small smile over at his brother, the sunlight pouring through the blinds, making Ethan's hair turn almost a blue color. Blackish blue. Like the wings of a raven. And although Grayson feels like shit and can't wait to get back to L.A. and get to some doctor to see what's up, he can't help but love Ethan in this moment. Here is his brother, taking all his attitude, all his pain, all his baggage. His brother who agreed to basically break into some house with him, so they didn't sleep out in the car. His brother who, without having to be asked, held him while he vomited. Ethan had been holding him since forever. He and Ethan. Ethan and he. Together.

"I love you." Grayson says. The words come rushing out like a wave lost in the ocean, found by Ethan's dark brown eyes as he peers over at him. And Grayson doesn't hesitate to reach over and grab his hand, not minding that they're in public and how strange it may look. He interlaces their fingers together.

And Ethan just gives him a small smile, the curl of a full, plush mouth. 'Cause sometimes you don't have to tell somebody you love them. Actions speak louder than words. And Grayson knows how much he loves him if anything in this world is true.

Ethan squeezes Grayson's fingers.


	21. Heart & Sole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson really loves Ethan's feet. Ethan doesn't realize it...until he does.

The first time Ethan noticed that Grayson might be paying a little too much attention to his feet was after a particularly energy-draining workout. Ethan collapsed on his bed after a shower, pretty much every single muscle in his body aching. He had been running alongside Grayson and he was just exhausted, you know? All he wanted to do was sleep. Grayson was in the shower and by the time he'd gotten out, Ethan was already half asleep, floating in that peaceful space between unconsciousness and consciousness. He wanted to stay there forever, if he was honest. It was too perfect.

The workout had been hard. For one, Grayson wouldn't let him stop running, encouraging him, edging him on and Ethan, always wanting to prove that he could be just as athletic at his brother, didn't let up. He pushed himself hard, harder than he probably should have. He overly exerted himself through the running, the pushups, the jump rope, the weightlifting, and the crunches. And now, well, it felt like every muscle in his body had been pulled from him, strung up, and then pushed back into him once more. He was exhausted. Strung out. Used.

"E?" Came Grayson's voice from the deep, dark depths of half-wakefulness.

Ethan just grunted as an answer, not really in the mood to give Grayson any real replies with words. That was too much effort.

But then Grayson's voice was so uncharacteristically soft and kind of scared sounding:

"Are you sore?"

What kind of fucking question was that?

Of course, he was sore. He'd been running around, getting his ass kicked. It wasn't fun, you know? It wasn't fucking fun feeling like he had to prove himself up against his clearly more muscular, fit brother. And at twenty-one, Ethan was mad that he still felt like he had to. That's what sucked about being a twin: there was a constant comparison, even if Ethan was the one comparing himself to Gray and not an outside source doing it. It still sucked. It still made him self-conscious, although nobody could get him to say that aloud.

And it didn't matter than Grayson had told him close to a thousand times how attractive he was, how much he loved him. There was still that constant fuckin' comparing.

Lying on the bed, Ethan felt like someone had driven a truck very slowly over his entire body. So yes, he was very sore. Incredibly sore. "Yeah, Gray. Mmh, sore 's hell."

"Do you want a massage?" Grayson asked and Ethan could feel a slight pressure on the edge of the bed beside his feet, like Grayson had put his hand down.

Ethan groaned in confirmation, nodding his head a little.

Grayson was great at rubbing him down, especially when he used oil; Ethan loved the feeling of pressing down onto the covers with Grayson straddling his back, two well-versed hands going to town on his shoulders, his neck, and his back, slowly and carefully unknotting every kink, every little problem area. He loved Grayson's hands on his skin: palms calloused with building things, large fingers gentle but firm as the dug into slippery, hot muscle; Grayson knew every part of his body that could make his eyes roll back in his head.

So, Ethan was fully prepared to hear the pop of an oil or lotion bottle. He expected to feel Grayson's hands on him, helping him turn over onto his stomach.

So, when Grayson suddenly put his hand on his left foot, right on the sole, Ethan was a little confused. He didn't move though, was too lethargic to do so. Sure, it was a little different. Grayson had never gone for his feet before.

But Grayson was gentle, rubbing Ethan's feet with his fingers, massaging them. He was slow at first, almost cautious, fingers trailing across his toes and then to his heel; then, as though gaining some sort of silent confidence, Grayson grabbed both, one hand on either side of his feet, and used his thumbs to massage deeply into both at the same time. They were smoothly circular motions that made Ethan's toes curl in pleasure. It didn't feel so bad. Not at all.

Before Ethan knew it, he had drifted into the soothing darkness of sleep.

-

The massages to Ethan's feet kept happening over time, and Ethan kind of was starting to think there was something more to them.

People usually didn't really like feet, and well, in the relationship they already had they had never paid attention to each other's feet. Ethan had heard of things like this, of kinks and fetishes connected to them. Did Grayson like his feet like that?

While Ethan himself wasn't very much into it, he really did like to give people pleasure. People like Grayson, for one, who had always been there for him, no matter what. Indulging him was pretty much the best thing to Ethan, so, he decided to do it. He'd let him touch his feet, let him feel them, pretend he didn't know what was going on.

But Grayson apparently didn't want to admit what he liked, so Ethan was going to start to tease Grayson and finally make him snap. Because. hey, this wasn't the worst kink Ethan ever heard of and also: Grayson deserved it if he wouldn't admit how much he liked it.

And if Ethan got some awesome foot massages out of it then what was the harm?

"Do you think their avocado toast is any good?" Ethan asked, eyeing his twin who was busy doing some editing on his laptop, the very deep frown on his forehead telling Ethan that Grayson was incredibly stressed. God, Grayson sometimes let himself get way too lost in editing instead of just sending it to Ryan and getting him to edit; he didn't even finish his salad because he was just too busy with his laptop. Ethan himself was munching on fries, contemplating getting some avocado toast from the nice L.A. food establishment they were eating lunch at.

"Hmm?"

Ethan rolled his eyes, shaking his head before waving over the waitress who practically shoved her perky boobs into Ethan's face. God, why did women always do that? Yeah, sure, at one-point Ethan had liked it and reveled in the attention, especially since they had gotten famous, but now it made him feel gross. It made him feel like somehow, someway, he was cheating on Grayson although he knew it wasn't his fault. He didn't ask for a D-cup in his face.

Grayson didn't even look up from the laptop although Ethan knew he must've seen it. He could see it by the sudden clink in his jaw tightening.

"Do you have any avocado toast?" Ethan asked politely.

She grinned, "Yeah, sugar. We got some avocado toast. One or two?"

"One please."

And then she was off, her face flushed and her body practically shaking, obviously very excited to have gotten to talk to one of the Dolan twins, although the other one had pointedly ignored her.

Ethan looked out the window, taking off his left sneaker under the table and rubbing his foot against Grayson's leg. He took the other sneaker off too, just for the sake of teasing Grayson, and rubbed both his feet against his tattooed legs.

Ethan pretended not to notice it when Grayson tensed and blushed, jaw tightening like he was angry; he was a master at pretending he didn't see things even when they were very obvious, and he just kept staring out of the window, running his socked toes over Grayson's leg.

"Uh, E, what are you doing, bro?" Came Grayson's hoarse, pointed voice.

So, it was working. Fuck, it was actually working; Ethan had figured out Grayson's damn kink. Ha. This was going to be so amazing; Ethan was going to tease Grayson all the time now, drive Grayson crazy just so he could. In a good way, of course. He didn't ever want to hurt him with it, use it against him; he loved Grayson way too much to do something like that. But this was just for fun, you know? Just to have some fun, maybe loosen him up a little more and have Grayson admit to his damn kink.

The kink that wasn't even that bad.

"Huh? Nothing. Just waiting for my toast, warming up my toes. I have really cold feet, you known, bro?" Ethan said, pursing his lips and looking at Grayson, all innocent, smirking with a raised eyebrow. He could see that Grayson's brain was working overtime, though. It was running rampant with thoughts about what Ethan was or could be doing. Grayson was definitely overthinking this shit again, probably getting either super aroused or super pissed. You know, the usual.

It was kind of stupid with how many horrible things were always going on in that brain of his. Grayson always pretended to be an optimist but Ethan was pretty sure that his brother was currently thinking that Ethan had found out about his kink and thought it was gross or that it made it uncomfortable.

"Why? Something wrong, bro?"

"No, no, nothing." Grayson muttered quickly, turning back to his laptop. Ethan grinned to himself, happily eating his slices of toast when they arrived. Hey, it was working. He was celebrating his little, tiny victory of figuring out what turned Grayson on. Like, really turned on. Like, so much that Grayson would probably worship that part of his body if he asked him to. Who could blame him? Who wouldn't want to know what got Grayson's dick up? Yeah, exactly.

So why not tease Gray? What harm could it do?

-

So, from then on Ethan did everything he could to make Grayson happy.

He didn't wear shoes most of the time inside of the house, not even socks when his feet wouldn't freeze off when the air conditioner was on full blast. Hell, sometimes he even drove Smooth Cat without shoes on whenever Grayson was in the car with him. He kept his feet in Grayson's sight at pretty much all times, showing them off and pretending to not know what he was doing. When it got hot one day, too hot even for L.A., Ethan wore flip-flops out. He started going bare foot. Or, at least, bare foot when he could get away with it. That's why the beach was so great; he could go bare foot all the time.

Gradually, Ethan kept trimming his toenails and rubbing his feet with moisturizer and making sure the dead skin was scrubbed off. He even started to kind of like all the attention he was giving his own feet; he had to admit it felt pretty good, good enough for him to almost forget why he was doing it in the first place.

It became kind of a routine to rub them in with moisturizer and make sure they were soft and smooth every night, didn't even notice he was doing it anymore until Grayson was suddenly next to him one night, hovering beside him like some trembling, upset animal.

"Something wrong, bro?"

"You're doing this on purpose."

And Grayson's eye browns were knitted together, and his arms were crossed over his chest as though he was shielding himself. From what, Ethan did not know. It wasn't like Ethan was going to berate him for it. All in all, there was an angry aroura all around Grayson. Ethan was well-aware that when his brother got defensive, he tended to get angry too.

"Huh?"

"You're doing this on purpose, Ethan."

It wasn't even a question; it was just something Grayson already knew. And Ethan wasn't going to deny it. Now that would be silly. So, he just shrugged and nodded, wiggling his toes around a little. It felt pretty damn good to have them out of his sneakers almost all the time, you know? And Grayson's eyes on them felt pretty good too.

"Why?"

"You know that one time that you busted my ass working out and then rubbed down my feet? I figured you liked 'em. I thought I'd take care of them more. Make you happy. I've been waiting on you to touch 'em again, you know?" Ethan sighed, leaning back on the bed, watching his brother standing right next to his dresser drawer.

He could see that Grayson was hard in his sweatpants and damn, that all because of his feet?

Ethan must have real special little toes then, huh? He grinned, wiggling his toes around more.

"C'mon, Gray, I know you've been dying to touch them. Do it, baby. They're all yours to play with. You can sing that little song. This little piggy went to the market, this little piggy-"

Grayson was on him before Ethan knew what was happening, kissing him, smashing his mouth against his, while rubbing his cock against Ethan's hip like a fuckin' animal, completely pressing him against the bed, gentle but firm.

"Yeah, I like your feet, dumbass." Grayson breathed out when he pulled away and Ethan would've been slightly offended if he didn't know that Grayson absolutely adored him. Grayson moved down Ethan's body, eagerly skipping over literally every other important part (hey, Ethan's dick wasn't going to get any attention at all, was it?) just to get to Ethan's feet. Ethan smirked as he watched Grayson grab onto his feet, gently starting to stroke the soft skin.

"You've been takin' really good care of 'em, haven't you?"

"Yeah, ever since I realized what was goin' on with you and my feet. I, uh, I decided to make sure they look good." Ethan put a pillow behind his back, reaching down into his sweats and pulling out his cock, lazily stroking it. Hey, if Grayson was getting off then Ethan wanted to get off too. Especially since he was going to be used as an object to jerk off to.

"They're so soft." Grayson whispered out, pulling his own cock from his pants, not even really bothering to get undressed. He rubbed his dick against the bed, sucking on his lip while rubbing his fingers into the sole of Ethan's foot. He massaged both of them for a while, brown eyes clouded with lust, the tip of his cock leaking.

Yeah, okay, that was hot.

While Ethan might not be into feet, he was into seeing Grayson all turned on like this. So, yeah, watching him was hot as hell. Ethan could orgasm just from that, but he used his hand a little too, just to help himself get off. "You have really pretty feet, E. They're so soft and long and big."

"Thanks, Gray. I mean, they're kind of soft." Ethan grinned, groaning a little when Grayson dug his fingers into those spaces between his toes. Oh, okay, yeah, that felt real good. Ethan could feel himself relaxing and he kept lazily stroking himself, playing with his foreskin as his cock got completely hard. Grayson leaned down, pressing some gentle kisses over Ethan's feet, still rubbing his cock against the mattress.

"You're so hot." Grayson moaned out, starting to even suck on Ethan's toes. Ethan groaned a little, closing his eyes, just letting himself enjoy this treatment. Grayson sucked his toes into his mouth ravenously, properly salivating against him. It was so arousing to see part of his body in Grayson's mouth and he was so gentle, too, basically worshiping Ethan's feet like they were the best things Grayson had ever seen.

This kept going on for a while, Ethan just jerking himself off while Grayson kept grinding onto the bed, licking and sucking on Ethan's toes.

Ethan's eyes shot open when he felt Grayson's dick on his feet, making him grin softly. Of course, Grayson was going to do this. This was so hot. Ethan watched as Grayson rubbed his cock over Ethan's feet, rubbing the tip between his toes and just basically fucking Ethan's feet. Ethan had never felt something so intense and intimate before.

"Does that feel good, Gray?"

"N- Not gonna last long. Fuck, E, you're so perfect." Grayson breathed out, jerking himself off quickly against Ethan's soles. Ethan jerked himself off faster too, the sight of Grayson's cock leaking all over his feet making Ethan's cock leak as well. How was this fetish so amazing?

Ethan kept his eyes on Grayson's face, letting Grayson fuck his feet until he came with a loud moan, coating Ethan's ankles and soles with his hot streams of cum. Ethan groaned, arching his back and moving his hand faster and faster until he came as well, slumping back against the bed. He panted softly, cock twitching when Grayson leaned down and licked the cum off Ethan's feet.

Well, Grayson's little fetish just got even hotter.

"I love you, E." Grayson said, panting as he looked up at his blissed out soul mate.

"I love you too, Gray. And who knows? Maybe next time we can uh, we can try to... do something different with my feet, huh?"

"Yeah." Grayson nodded with a sleepy smile. "Totally."


	22. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson goes missing - and when he comes back, he's not the same man that left.  
> "Change" is in the same verse as my first one-shot "Turn of the Tides." This is an AU of that one-shot.

Ethan's instincts woke him up like a jolt of electricity rushing through his spine.

He stayed still, although his breathing had already turned shallow and his body was tense, and he couldn't tell for certain if the intruder had spotted the shift yet.

Quietly and without opening his eyes completely, he tried to peer into the darkness to find his enemy, while his hand moved ever so slowly towards the gun hidden underneath the mattress with its handle poking out just enough to ensure he could grab it quickly.

Then, the intruder chuckled - and Ethan recognized his voice.

"It won't work anymore, E," Grayson's voice told him quietly.

His hand went limp on the mattress, and after holding in his breath for a moment, Ethan sat up in the bed. He slid his legs down from the mattress and tried the hard floor underneath them although it seemed to be swaying and dared to stand up, but he hesitated before moving further.

There was something off about his twin brother - something was wrong.

He'd feared as much: Grayson had been gone for a week without a trace, and Ethan had spent that whole time trying to track him down to no avail. And now that he was there... he didn't seem like the guy Ethan had known his whole entire life.

"Gray?" he called out, his voice breathless and as tense as his body was.

Grayson nodded.

"Yeah," he said, still with that soft tone that seemed to echo with regret, "It's me."

"Where have you - what happened?" Ethan asked, stepping to the side to turn on the light.

Before he could reach it - really, in barely a blink of an eye - Grayson was there, his hand on Ethan's, stopping him from touching the light switch.

Ethan's hand retreated slowly, and he could smell Grayson now, but it wasn't the same comforting scent he was used to anymore. It was... like Grayson had stayed in a basement for an extended amount of time, long enough for the damp, cold smell to stick to his clothes. To his skin, his hair. And there was an undertone to that smell; a bitter, coppery smell.

It made Ethan shudder even as Grayson's cold fingers lifted from his arm.

"I need you to do me a favor," Grayson spoke, ignoring Ethan's question, and the regret in his tone leaked over to the side of despair only ever so slightly, but Ethan caught up on it immediately. Of course, he did. He always did.

"Grayson -"

"E," Grayson cut him off before he could speak. "I need you to end me."

Ethan swallowed. He fell back towards the bed and sat down there, and before him, Grayson knelt down to remain at his level or a little below it, submissive and pleading.

"I got caught, see," he continued, another joyless chuckle escaping him before a sigh did. "Rookie mistake, didn't check my corners, bro. I got dragged into the nest. Got bitten. Got infected."

"With...what?" It's barely a whisper.

But Ethan knows exactly what Grayson is taking about. And it's tearing him apart, really. It's ripping him into a hundred pieces with every thump, thump, thump of his rising heartbeat.

"You know with what, Ethan. They made me drink - there's no way back. I can barely hold it together; just being here, being around you. I can smell your blood, E. I can hear your heartbeat. There's no way to explain this and there's - there's nothing else you can do to help me. So - do me a favor, E, alright? Do what a slayer should do."

Ethan could barely breathe.

He was suddenly feeling lightheaded and his world was swaying worse than before, and his heart was racing, and he was all too aware of Grayson knowing it. He wanted to argue, or deny everything that Grayson was telling him, but he couldn't; he could smell it, he could hear it in Grayson's voice, and inside, he just knew it to be true.

But how? How had they found them here, in this town? They hadn't even been slaying, hadn't been hunting, period. This was just a stop on the way south. That was all this had been. They hadn't gone looking for vamps. How had this happened?

"Gray, there's - there's got to be another way, bro."

Grayson's lips curled back in a snarl. Even as a vampire, it seemed, his temper was short. He stood up again, paced a couple steps to gather himself.

"What way, Ethan? There's only one cure, and you know it won't work once the vampire has fed. I've fed. I had no choice. It's over, Ethan. God - please. Just - I can't do it myself, bro. There's no way. It's either you, or someone else, someone I don't know, someone who doesn't care who I am. I'd rather - E, I'd rather it be you. If I got to choose - the last thing I see on this earth would be you. Who else? You're all that I've got, bro, the only family I have left, the only friend I ever really had. You're..." Grayson closed his eyes tightly for a moment before continuing, like it was hard to get it out, "you're my wombmate, you know?"

He breathed funnily for a second before forcing himself to continue.

"I don't want to die alone," he confessed in a suffocated voice, falling back on the bed opposite of Ethan.

Ethan was cold.

His whole body was shaking, and his palms and his back were all wet with sweat, and the draft in the hotel room only served to make it worse. He let out a shivering gasp through his parted lips and blinked away the tears in his eyes.

"Gray, I can't. I - I can't."

"You're a slayer, Ethan. Of course, you can. I'm - I'm just a vampire. I'm just a monster now."

Grayson dragged in a breath and pushed himself onwards.

"All I want - E, all I want to do is tear out your throat, bury my teeth in your artery and drink you dry. I'm not the Gray you knew anymore. I'm not your brother anymore. I'll never be again. There's - there's nothing you can do. Nothing." Grayson's voice shook as he attempted to keep it steady, his gaze never leaving Ethan's, trying to make him understand how serious-how horrible, fucked up-this situation was.

Ethan shuddered to the sound of yet another scared laughter that Grayson let out, borderline hysterical. He couldn't stay still, and rather than staying on the bed, he picked himself up again and walked to the middle of the room until the window's light reflected onto him, and Ethan could see his pale complexion and the hunger in his eyes, the whole of him still muscular and fit but wasted and drained somehow, all at once.

He glimpsed back at Ethan and examined him before moving his fingers up to his lips and dragging the corner of his mouth up to show his newly-grown, deathly sharp fangs, confirming how close he was to losing it already.

"No," Ethan heard himself utter, "Gray, no."

"No?" Grayson grunted, letting his lip fall back over his teeth, "Ethan - I can't hold back forever, bro."

"No," Ethan repeated, "There's - there has to be another way."

"What way, Ethan? I can't be cured. I can't not feed. There's no other way. Kill me- or I'll walk out that door and that'll be the last you ever see of me, and you'll know that someone else, somewhere, did what you couldn't do. That the last thing I saw was some slayer who sees me as nothing more than a monster -"

Grayson was nearly hysterical, tears streaming down his face, trying to control his pain, his heartache, his defeat. It was too much. It hurt him even more to know how much he was hurting Ethan just by being here. But how could he not be here?

"Gray, don't."

Ethan stood up; he walked to his brother and grabbed his wrist, making Grayson jump and try to back off a step from Ethan's pulsing, living, warm body. He let out an indistinct sound and revealed his fangs for just a moment again before turning his head away, and Ethan could feel him shaking.

"Remember, when we ran into that vamp three years ago. What was her name? I think....Emma?"

"Who?"

"The vampire who refused to drink human blood."

Grayson tensed. He breathed funnily for a while before daring to turn his head back towards him, but Ethan swallowed thickly at the sight of his eyes immediately seeking out Ethan's throat instead of his eyes. It didn't last for long, however - soon enough, Ethan could catch his brother's eyes, and he looked into them pleadingly, his grip over Grayson's hand tightening.

"It can be done, Grayson. You won't be the first one."

"E, you have no idea how this feels," Grayson told him, and Ethan knew it, he could hear it in his voice, but there was no way he'd let Grayson go.

There was no way he'd kill him, either.

He'd die before he raised a blade to Grayson's throat.

"You need food, but it doesn't have to be human. You don't have to kill."

They stood there, Ethan's hand wrapped around Grayson's wrist and Grayson standing there, still, his eyes flickering between Ethan's throat and his eyes, for a very long time.

Outside, a car parked on the hotel's dingy parking lot, and its headlights shone brightly through the window, revealing more of Grayson for Ethan to see. His hair was a mess and his clothes looked worn from a fight he'd had. There was a visible tear on his sleeve, and some blood still from where the vampires had drank from him.

They'd played with him, Ethan realized with anger and heartache and disgust. Jesus. There were teeth marks all over his throat on one side, hardly deep enough to drain him of all his blood, but enough for Ethan to know that they'd either kept him for a long time or there had been many who'd fed from him in a short span of time before they'd eventually turned him.

He couldn't blame Grayson for wanting to die. The shock of the transformation alone would do it, but the thought of being turned by a coven that first used him like a toy or meal before finally ending it like that - Ethan's chest ached to the thought, and finally, he let go of Grayson's wrist.

"You don't have to die," he told Grayson firmly but in a quiet voice, as if wanting to keep this just between them, "And even then - I won't let you."

"I can't live like this," Grayson countered, but Ethan shook his head.

He turned his back to Grayson despite the way it caused his hair to stand up all over his body and walked to his bed again. He settled there with a sigh and when he looked, he found Grayson standing a couple steps closer to him than before. A small smile lingered on his lips although he felt drained and empty inside.

"Where would I go?" Grayson asked him after a short silence.

"Wherever you want. Wherever's... safe."

"You think that's worth it? Being forced to live alone forever, or at least until I inevitably get caught and killed anyway?"

"No," Ethan said, "You won't have to be alone."

It was Grayson's turn to tense, and Ethan could see it happen and knew to expect it. His brother wasn't stupid. Of course, he'd caught on.

"Ethan -"

"Yeah. I don't particularly want to die alone, either," Ethan chuckled, hanging his head and letting out a small sigh, "So... anytime you're ready."

"No. I won't. Ethan, I won't. I came here to die. I didn't come here to kill you. I'll never - E, I can't do it. I won't."

"Think about it," Ethan said with exasperation in his voice now, "You can't do this alone. I trust you when you say that, because it won't be easy. I know fighting a desire like that... it's not, and it will never be, easy. But we're stronger together. We've always been. We're all we've got. You think I don't feel that way, too? You think - you think I'd just move on after you're dead, or once you're gone? You think I could just let go?"

Grayson's weight moved from one foot to the other, and Ethan felt something else shift in him as he did so, too. He couldn't tell what it was yet, but it was a profound change, something that turned him... more predatory than he'd been before. More alert, more aware, more like a big cat prowling before an antelope. And Ethan was the antelope. He was fine with that, however.

"So... have at it, Grayson. Turn me, too. Then we can fight it together."

"E."

Ethan kept his head down as Grayson moved closer. His steps were silent so that not a sound could be heard as he walked the distance between them to the bed, and despite knowing he was there, Ethan felt his body shake when Grayson touched his shoulder and sat down on the bed next to him.

"I can't... say no," Grayson told him in a weak voice, "but I want to, because this isn't right. I know this isn't right. If I was still me, I -"

"You are still you, Grayson. You won't ever not be you. It'll be different, but I trust you - you've always been better than you give yourself credit for, you know."

Ethan let out a small breathless chuckle and tilted his head back. Almost immediately, he felt the tip of his brother's nose brush against his neck, and - unexpectedly - it sent a shiver down his body. His heart picked up and he breathed out a tense sigh.

"Take what you need," he said, eyes closing, "Then turn me, and I'll do this with you, the whole mile."

"Forever?"

"What do you think?" he chuckled, peering out through half-lidded eyes with a small grin on his lips despite the fear filling up his veins.

Grayson's eyes looked unfocused and glassy as he nodded, swallowing hard. The bite barely hurt - he was gentle with the way he let his fangs pierce Ethan's skin, like a thousand sharp needles puncturing into his artery at once. That was the way he led them out from Ethan's body, too, only to replace the pain with the silky texture of his mouth, and he drank, sucking at the pulsing flow of blood flooding out through the wound, and it took little time for Ethan's dizziness to turn worse. He sought balance from the bed but his arm went out from underneath him, and it was Grayson who caught him, holding him against his body as he drank, and despite the ache, Ethan felt himself relaxing into his hold. He was giving in with no struggle - ultimately, it wouldn't matter much if he'd die there. But just as his consciousness was starting to fade, Grayson's lips left his neck and pierced his own flesh instead.

His wrist was wet with fresh blood as he pressed it to Ethan's mouth, and it was Ethan's turn to take that blood in. At first, his body wanted to reject it, and he had to suppress a gag and force himself to swallow instead, but after the first mouthful had gone down, he felt a strange appetite growing for more. It felt wrong; he could feel a heat in his body forcing him to suck harder and then went deeper and reached for memories much further back in his mind - memories of a time when he'd been very young, memories of a deep coppery taste on his lips from busting his mouth open in a skateboard accident, and then nothing. He fell back and felt Grayson's grip around him turning tighter as he faded, and the night turned even darker around him, until everything was pitch black and dead silent.

The next thing he recognized was the sunrise. Dawn was breaking behind the thin curtains, and as Ethan opened his eyes feeling feverish and weak, the first thing he saw was Grayson sitting beside him on the bed, humming one of his favorite songs a little off-key, Kid Cudi. He reached a hand towards him and his fingers dragged over Grayson's back; the humming stopped, and Grayson turned back to look at him with a tired smile. As Ethan's hand fell back on the bed, Grayson's moved into his hair and combed through it.

"How's it feeling, E?" he asked in a low voice, the other side of his face painted with deep gold from the window above.

The light was starting to hurt Ethan's eyes, but he smiled the best he could before closing his eyes again.

"I don't think it'll get better from here," he confessed.

"It won't. Trust me."

"Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere anymore. You know that, right?"

Ethan nodded. He was fading again: the bed underneath him seemed to rock gently as his mind gave up and turned blank, leaving him drifting between life and death. Through that haze, he felt Grayson moving over him. He didn't understand it at first, but soon, he could feel Grayson's fingers trail the waistband of his pajama pants. Forcing himself back into the real world, he faced his brother's serious eyes above him.

"I've never felt anything like this," Grayson told him, although he wasn't exactly sure what he was hearing through the mist that had taken over his senses, "Now that you're turning - it's... different."

"Different?" he repeated, eyes closing again.

"Yeah."

Grayson's fingers bent underneath the waistband and gently tugged at his pants.

"E, I... Are you there?"

"I'm not sure."

"There enough to tell me if this is alright?"

"Grayson -"

"We mate for life. We only have to do this once, and then we'll be bound together. Fully, Ethan. The way only... beings like us can be."

Ethan forced his eyes open again. Breathing took most of his energy, and he still wasn't sure if this was really happening. His body, however, was responding; he felt hard and heavy inside his pants, and Grayson's hand over his hip seemed to radiate warmth and promise redemption like nothing else could. He nodded, even if he wasn't sure if what Grayson was saying made any sense.

"You want that?" he asked, his voice shaky and blank.

"I think so," Grayson breathed out in response, his fingers gripping Ethan's waistband harder, "I - my body wants it. I can smell you, Ethan, so damn strong and - and it's doing something to me that I've never... really felt before."

Ethan's eyes closed again, but he felt himself parting his legs.

"Then do it," he said, and his voice echoed in his ears.

His skin burned as Grayson pulled down his pants. The next thing he knew was Grayson's mouth around his sex, his lips tight around his shaft and the wet warmth of his mouth surrounding the crown of his cock. He let out a quiet moan and his fingers found Grayson's hair; it felt vaguely dirty - this was his twin brother - but he couldn't muster the energy or the conscience to feel guilty. Everything was changing, his body was changing, he was somewhere between death and becoming something else than human, and somehow that seemed to make the human world with its arbitrary rules and regulations distant and unnecessary for him. He didn't belong in that world anymore. Neither did Gray; the only thing that mattered was them. Being together - forever.

He shifted his hips lazily towards Grayson's mouth, and Grayson let out a moan around his cock, and Ethan could feel him swallow around it as he started working up and down along it. He wasn't sure how long it lasted, only that once it ended, his cock was aching hard and resting heavy over his hipbone, leaking, and Grayson was somewhere else. He heard the floorboards creak as Grayson stepped over them, he heard the bag's zipper, and he heard a snap and the sound of something wet squirting over Grayson's hand, and then nothing again. Inside his ears was an ocean of blood, and through it all, he could no longer hear his heartbeat. It was gone, and some part of him knew he'd never hear it again, but he didn't feel cold or dead, only as if his whole body was on fire, and the sensation tingled all over his skin and made him gasp for air as Grayson's index finger pressed against his tight hole.

His leg was bent out of the way, the other still resting on the bed, and Grayson was holding his thigh and pressing it against his stomach as he rubbed his finger over and into Ethan's body, his skin and Ethan's flesh now slick with lube or cream or whatever it was that he was wetting him with. Soon, his finger entered, and his body pressed closer until their mouths were together, and Grayson's lips were hungry as he claimed Ethan's with them, and his tongue played with the smooth underside of Ethan's lower lip and the curve of his upper lip as he lay there without realizing that he could have responded to the kiss - or rejected it. He was constantly slipping under again, only barely staying conscious for short periods of time, and when Grayson pushed his cock inside, he could only moan in a muffled voice as his panting breaths filled his ears.

Grayson rocked into him, his own gasps and grunts the soundtrack to Ethan's vampiric transformation, and he had sex with him while Ethan was struggling to stay aware of it. Every and each of his movements caused a shockwave of pleasure inside Ethan's strange-feeling body; however, he was aware of this at least if nothing else, and Grayson's reassuring lips moved onto his bruised neck that no longer bled nor felt open at all. He could feel something else happening to him as he lay there, receiving Grayson's movements as they came: he could feel a strange but prolifically powerful bond forming between himself and Grayson; it felt stronger than even being a twin; it was one that bound itself to the way Grayson's thick cock was stretching him open and pushing into his body. Ethan could feel it becoming stronger and more physical with every thrust, and as Grayson held his hips tight against Ethan's own, he felt as if they were one in body and mind, like if he'd only been a little more aware, he could have listened in on Grayson's thoughts.

Then Grayson moved away again, and his next thrust was harder, and the way he fucked Ethan became more rough than gentle, leaving them both a mess of sweat and trembling gasps and moans. His teeth, the blunt human ones, bit Ethan over the shoulders and his neck before turning to nails again, and the sharp needles raked his jaw and his Adam's apple never piercing his skin however, and Ethan felt a strange, pinching sensation in his gums as his own newly-formed fangs came in and he buried them into Grayson's shoulder, barely awake enough to hold up his own head. His body pulsed around Grayson's cock, not with life but with some strange form of energy that now moved his muscles instead, and he wrapped his legs around Grayson's hips and moved back and forth with him, pleasure and desire driving him madly onwards where his conscious mind still refused to take control.

Their mouths joined again as Ethan's back arched and he felt his seed spilling out and painting his stomach to the rhythm of steady pulses inside his body, and Ethan's eyes opened to a blurry view of him releasing above him - he felt his body fill up with Grayson's warmth, and the sensation was bizarre and novel for him but it sealed that unity that had begun forming between them like glue, and it was that thought and feeling that drowned him out again and led him to a comforting, smooth silence and darkness in the midst of daylight pouring in through the window.

All the way until he woke up again, he could now sense his brother and his mate by his side, as reliably as a steep mountainside, never once moving away from him as long as he remained vulnerable.


	23. Old Married Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Grayson spend Christmas relaxing in a cabin and away from their bustling social media influencer lifestyles.
> 
> Ethan gets a little drunk and tells Grayson that he'd marry him if they weren't twins. As they jokingly talk about their fictional wedding, Ethan starts to realize that his thoughts about marrying Grayson might be a little more serious.

23.  
Ethan and Grayson, 22  
\---

"You know what, Gray? If we weren't twins, I'd totally marry you."

Ethan wasn't sure what made him say it; maybe it had something to do with the eggnog with added brandy that he and Grayson had been drinking for most of the evening, or the fact that he was feeling all happy and light-headed because it was nearly Christmas and he and Grayson were sitting next to each other on a comfortable sofa, relaxing in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, the two of them taking a break from social media for a few days to celebrate the holiday, complete with a Christmas tree and Christmas decorations, and another romantic Christmas movie just beginning on the TV.

Or maybe it was because Grayson had already made Ethan watch a chick-flick with the usual clichéd story about how a couple-in-love had overcome all obstacles to finally make it down the aisle in time for Christmas, with Gray using the lame excuse that it was the only DVD that he could find in the cabin, and Grayson had just spent at least half an hour laughing at Ethan's eye rolling and groans at every tacky scene, before he started asking Ethan if he'd ever seriously thought about marrying anyone. Well, anyone other than Kristina, the Australian girl that, two years prior, Ethan had honestly believed she was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. Of course, she went and ended up breaking his heart. Typical.

Ethan had looked from Grayson to the walls of the cozy room they were sitting in, thinking about how perfect the whole scene was, how awesome it was that he was sitting next to the only person he'd ever been able to offer any kind of commitment to, the only person who he could really see himself spending the rest of his life with, even if it wouldn't be in a tacky, romantic way, and he had also felt a rush of affection as he watched Gray, whose hair was still damp after taking a shower, who was still a little drunk from the eggnog, looking all relaxed and happy wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and a slight flush on his cheeks, and the words had just slipped out before Ethan even realized what he was saying.

He looked at Gray, who looked kind of taken aback by Ethan's I'd-totally-marry-you comment, and also like he didn't know whether to find this funny, or ask a lot more questions that Ethan didn't have the answers to, or make this into one of their intense bonding moments that Grayson loved so much.

"Dude," Grayson laughed, apparently settling on amusement as his reaction, to Ethan's relief. "If we're getting married, then you're totally wearing the dress!"

"Yeah right, Gray," Ethan replied, unable to resist a challenge when he heard one. "That doesn't even make sense, bro! I'm not a girl. I'd be wearin' a suit too."

Ethan smiled drunkenly, envisioning Grayson is a tuxedo.

"You know that you'd be the one dressing your tux up with flowers. Bet you'd wear a couple in your hair, too..."

"Bet you'd be the one who'd picked the flowers out in the first place, E," Grayson shot back at him, a playful tone to his voice that Ethan hadn't heard for months. "We both know how much you love all the little details." Grayson nodded his head in the direction of the Christmas decorations in the cabin, which Ethan had spent hours putting up, trying to get everything to look just right, wanting to give his twin the perfect holiday after so many years stressful, people-filled Christmases.

"You'd write the most chick-flick-worthy vows ever, Gray. Well, I mean, if you could write..." Ethan grinned, enjoying the brotherly banter after too many months of yelling at each other and trading insults after their more exhausting days with business and filming. Although he was pretty certain that most adult twins wouldn't get into playful arguments about their fictional wedding.

"And we both know that you'd be crying the whole time."

"As if you wouldn't be crying too, E," Grayson mocked him with a roll of his eyes. "I can just picture you, bro, trying to wipe your eyes, pretending that you have allergies, or that you have something in your eye-"

"You would so want to eat your typical rabbit food at the wedding reception," Ethan jumped in, before Grayson could hurt his manly pride any further. He tried his best to give a disgusted shudder at the thought of eating salad on his wedding day.

"Hey!" Grayson responded, sounding indignant. "It'd be better than celebrating a wedding at a diner, or at a bar, eating too many veggie burgers and drinking beer all night..."

"What's wrong with veggie burgers? Huh?" Ethan asked, kind of liking the idea of going to a diner after a wedding ceremony, eating too much food and avoiding anything too formal, before spending the night partying at a bar.

He wondered if it was kind of weird that he was enjoying thinking about these details so much, that he was having so much fun discussing this with Grayson. "And it'd be cool to go to a bar-we could get them to play some Kid Cudi for our first dance..."

Grayson's eyes widened a little, and he went quiet for a couple of seconds, and Ethan wondered if he'd gone a little too far with that comment, instead of sticking to the script of joking and insulting each other through their banter; but then Grayson grinned and nodded, and Ethan knew that the game was still on.

"Yeah, bro," he smirked, "maybe I'd even let you lead. Too bad we'd have to go back to the house after a day like that, though..."

"Nuh-uh, Gray," Ethan cut him off with a shake of his head, forgetting for a moment that this was all supposed to be a joke. "Forget the house; we'd be going back to the cabin, right here, just you and me."

"We would?" Grayson asked, sounding fascinated by this comment. His expression was now a lot more serious. "But...why?"

Because we've only been in this cabin for a couple days, and I already kind of want us to just stay somewhere like this for ever...somewhere like a home of our own, away from everybody else.

The words were in Ethan's head, appearing out of nowhere yet sounding scarily familiar; but Ethan couldn't say them out loud, not when he didn't really understand them himself, not when he was always the first to complain when they took any sort of break from social media, not when his conversation with Grayson was already getting deeper and deeper.

"Because we'd be married, Gray," Ethan chose to say instead. "And if we're married, then we should have a home of our own. I mean, one away from anybody who could hurt us." It was almost terrifying, how Ethan could suddenly picture the exact details of the cabin he and Grayson would live in, one a bit bigger than this one, nestled in the woods, how it made perfect sense in his mind that they would have a place just for the two of them, away from civilization, away from people who could judge them, hurt them, in this fictional wedding scenario, how relieved his fictional self would probably feel at the thought of having somewhere permanent to settle down with Grayson. Just him. Nobody else. He had no idea where all of these thoughts were coming from. More and more he thought about it, it felt like running away from his responsibilities.

Grayson had a faraway look in his eyes, and Ethan couldn't help wondering if Grayson was imagining the exact same thing.

Then, the faraway look was replaced by a mischievous glint. "You're secretly an old-fashioned romantic, aren't you, E?" he laughed. "Anyway, if we had our own home to come back to after the wedding, I could carry you over the threshold."

"Dude!" Ethan spluttered, indignant. Because no, just... no. It was too much, picturing his not-so-little twin brother being able to pick him up like that, being all strong and dominant, not when Ethan's mind was filled with so many fond memories of holding Gray in his arms when they were kids, when Gray was crying and scared, having woken from a particularly nasty nightmare. He was usually the really protective one, no matter what Gray said.

Besides, he still had his manly pride to consider. "No way! You would totally drop me!"

"Why?" Grayson asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The only way I'd drop you is if you'd spent the day eating too many burgers..."

Ethan looked Grayson up and down, taking in his wide chest and his strong biceps. Yeah...maybe he could pick him up and carry him around.

He thought he knew everything about Grayson off by heart, but now, it was almost like he was looking at him for the first time. Or maybe he was just seeing Grayson in a whole new light.

"Fine," Ethan sighed, eventually, "you might be carrying me over the threshold, but you know that the second we got into the bedroom, you'd be all shy and nervous, and you'd want me to take charge..."

"Why have I gotta be the blushing virgin in this story, E?" Grayson asked with folded arms, sounding kind of annoyed at the idea of it.

Ethan had a feeling that this 'like a virgin' scenario wouldn't exactly be true, especially when he judged his own imagination against the reality of all the times when he had walked in on Grayson having sex in his room, where Ethan would always smirk and walk past the bed in the direction of Grayson's bathroom a little too slowly, mumbling, "Don't mind me. I forgot my toothbrush in your bathroom," as he tried to be subtle about looking at what was going on out of the corner of his eye, giving in to his curiosity. In those situations, Grayson definitely hadn't been blushing. Or a virgin.

Ethan decided that maybe it was just some sick, twisted need to impose his own fantasy of having Grayson needy and vulnerable and dependent on him onto their adult lives, so that he could indulge in his own desire to play his protective older-by-twenty-minutes twin role; a role that Grayson rarely let Ethan act out now.

"Because you'd like it, having me take care of you," Ethan tried as a response, deciding that he might as well go all out with his comebacks now, even if there was no way that Grayson would agree. "Come on, Gray," he continued to mock, "don't even try to tell me that you wouldn't want me to light candles in the room and scatter red rose petals on the bed..."

He stopped talking when he noticed that Grayson was blushing, and apparently trying his best to hide his face behind his slightly overgrown hair, and cover his face with his hands, as though he really didn't want Ethan to see his reaction. As though, maybe, Ethan had unintentionally hit the nail right on the head.

He wanted to ask Grayson about what was going on, what he was thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he was suddenly thinking about Grayson being naked underneath him on a king-sized bed, looking up at Ethan with a look of total trust and devotion, the two of them married, committed, bonded for life, whatever they wanted to call it, and also wondering why he wasn't thinking that anything about that image was sick, or wrong, or not as hot as all of his times with beautiful women...or with Kristina...or a few other times, times he definitely hadn't told Grayson about...

"Anyway, it'd be your first time with a guy, s'far as I know," he continued, after a tense silence that lasted a little too long. "So I guess you would be like a virgin...kind of."

At Grayson's shocked, drunken expression, Ethan felt his own cheeks flushing, realizing what he'd just unintentionally given away about himself, thinking that maybe he'd already given too much away in this conversation, that the discussion had got too intense, too serious, too...close to home-on Ethan's part, anyway, even though he was pretty sure he hadn't thought about any of this before tonight. Before getting totally wasted.

Grayson went quiet, a little too quiet, looking deep in thought, and an invisible tension set in between the two of them.

Lost in the uncomfortable silence, Ethan took the time to really think about it all.

He could picture it all, as real as if it had actually happened. The two of them in a church (Ethan knew how implausible that location would be, but still, he preferred the idea of the two of them exchanging vows in a church for some reason), Grayson standing opposite him, the two of them making their emotional vows, promising to be together forever, just like Ethan had always wanted, Grayson crying, Ethan pretending not to cry.

Then he pictured them having their wedding breakfast at a typical diner, Grayson eating a few veggie burgers with a side of greens, Ethan eating French fries with a ton of ketchup, Grayson rolling his eyes affectionately with a that's-my-husband expression as the waitresses brought more and more baskets of fries over for Ethan, the two of them heading to a bar in the evening to continue celebrating, drinking a few beers, Grayson dragging Ethan up to dance.

Then, finally, he pictured them arriving at their new house, the cabin nestled deep in the woods, Grayson crying all over again, Grayson's strong, steady arms picking him up, Ethan complaining, insisting that he wasn't a chick, but secretly loving the fact that Grayson could hold him, protect him, carry him to their new bedroom in a cabin in the middle of the woods, where Grayson would laugh at the candles and the rose petals, but he would also look kind of emotional, and Ethan would kiss him, softly, wanting to keep that innocent, happy look on Grayson's face for the rest of their lives.

As the images played in his mind, Ethan realized something. It might have started out as a joke of a conversation, he might have vowed for years to never get married to anyone, he might never have been able to make a real, mature relationship work, the story might be more tacky than the chick flick that he and Grayson had just watched, the fantasy might be kind of impossible in reality-and also illegal-but, in spite of all that, and in spite of everything else in the universe that seemed to conspire against him, Ethan wanted it. He wanted all of it. Even if they never had a real ceremony or officially signed any marriage documents. He wanted Grayson. For better or for worse. Forever.

He almost couldn't believe that he was only just working all of this out right now, as it seemed so obvious, when he thought about it, that Grayson had always been more, and that no woman (or other man) would ever compare to a soul mate. And it wasn't like they didn't already act like a married couple most of the time anyway.

The silence went on and on, and Ethan decided that he could never go there, if Grayson didn't want it. He would do his best to dig them out of this conversation, if that's what Grayson wanted, if things were going to get too weird between them. He just needed Grayson to say something, anything, so that he could work out what he was feeling.

"Ethan?" Grayson muttered, breaking the silence at last.

"Yeah?"

"I..I'd want the flowers to be white, instead of red. Just in case you were ever gonna, uh, you know..."

As Grayson blushed drunkenly, Ethan couldn't help grinning like Christmas had come early.

"Gray?"

"Yeah, E?"

"You'd better not drop me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I love hearing from you; it motivates me to continue to create grethan content. 
> 
> I hope everyone is having a good day and stay safe out there! ❤


	24. Summer of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer they are sixteen, Ethan and Grayson move to a new town. Ethan decides to become a hippy and being worried about his safety-as well as the intentions of his new friends-a bitter, reclusive Grayson decides to attend a drum circle with him.

24.

Grayson doesn't make friends easily.

Ethan has always been better at that. Making friends, that is.

Ethan's more...approachable. Kinda shy, kinda awkward. Grayson...well, Grayson tends to get angry. Like, a lot. And unless you aren't the focus of that person's anger directly, people don't tend to like people who have a hard time managing their frustration. But Grayson's getting better about that. Slowly. But he is.

Grayson's suspicious of everyone and everything, and so naturally when a guy two years older than them starts hanging around Ethan, all surfer boy grins and long legs and wild, mountain man hair, it takes everything in Grayson not to punch him in the face.

Ethan had been quick to explain that he'd met him at the park where he was skateboarding (or falling from a skateboard, as Grayson so loved to correct him), and this new creature, this...this Harper had invited Ethan to hang out with his friends one evening and that had turned into one night. One night had turned into two solid weeks of Ethan basically gone from the house, and when he is here, he's just talking about the guy.

It's Friday night and it seems that his brother at it again, heading out with Harper, and he hasn't even bothered to ask if Grayson wants to come too. Now he's stalking through the house, humming happily to himself as he gathers things: the ancient handmade quilt they'd unearthed from a chest in their room at this new rented house a couple towns over from their hometown of New Valley, N.J., some apples from the kitchen (Grayson hadn't said a word about those because those apples could only belong to Ethan in the first place), and. And. Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute...

"What the fuck are you doing, E?" Grayson practically scampers into the kitchen where his brother is standing in the yawned open door of the fridge, unapologetically plucking bottles of beer from the otherwise empty shelves. Grayson gathers the beers to his chest like they're his newly hatched eggs, glaring full and hard at Ethan. "What the hell's the matter with you, huh? You don't talk to me all day and now you're stealing beers? Stop acting like a crack head, bro. Mom will kill you if she..."

Grayson stops talking because Ethan is gone, fridge door closed and those jean clad legs taking his brother back through the house where he's lifting his full backpack onto his shoulders. He levels Grayson with an unimpressed, unthreatened look.

"Look, chill out. I'm going to the park with Harper. There's a drum circle there tonight." Ethan shrugs, all teenage casual and completely lacking all of the concern and survival skills or, even, a sense of self-preservation that normal people possess by sixteen. Like, seriously? Where's Ethan's sense of caution or self-conservation?! Like, Grayson has that. Really. He gets super paranoid about everything but E? Nah, man. It's Harper said this and Harper did that....

Grayson swears that something has really changed over the summer; he doesn't know if it's because they're sixteen or what. And Ethan won't stop wearing those super dark sunglasses that, when he pulls them down, reveals blood-shot eyes. And what the hell is up with wearing flip flops with jeans? 'Cause it doesn't look good. Not at all.

Grayson's conclusion is this: Ethan is turning into a damn hippie.

"A drum circle," Grayson practically spits out, his eyes blinking several times as the words process. "What the fuck is a drum circle, E? Is that some kind of pagan ritual sacrifice? Is...Ethan, are you in a cult, bro?"

It's Ethan's turn to spin on his heel and raise his eyebrows at Grayson.

"What. Gray, are you high? No! No, I'm not in a freakin' cult. Jeez. It's in the park. In a public place. It's a bunch of people sitting around and playing drums and dancing and blowing bubbles. It's exactly what it sounds like. Stop being such a bitch, bro. I knew you wouldn't like it. That's why I didn't invite you. You're a mood killer." Ethan rolls his eyes-- a move that infuriates Grayson --shrugs his backpack up higher on his back and he's stalking out of the living room toward the front door.

"Am I high? Am." Grayson shoves his feet into his falling apart pair of Vans and, beers against his chest, heads after his twin and quickly beats him to the door. "Sorry. You aren't goin' to a fuckin' orgy, E!"

"Gray, I'm older!" Ethan snaps. "I should be watching over your ass, not the other way around."

Grayson has to bite down on his tongue to keep from mocking him immediately, his face and ears turning red with his pent-up rage.

"Yeah, by twenty minutes! That's nothing. You're still stupid!"

Ethan continues without a hitch.

"What's the big deal!? It's not an orgy! That's gross, bro. I've been hanging out with Harper for two weeks! You're too much of a hot head for him. I'll be back later; I don't need you to hold my hand all the time. Fuck, why don't you try to get your own friends?"

All Grayson hears is that E has found a replacement for him, one that is "cooler" and older and has two dreadlocks in the nest of his hair and has a bottomless bag of pot and a vast knowledge of Pink Floyd lyrics and doesn't look anything like him so they don't get stopped in public and get asked, "Are you guys twins?" a half dozen times a day.

Grayson grabs Ethan and his shared car keys and stalks out the front door, eyes narrowed on Harper who is leaning against his beat-up '87 Honda Accord. Grayson snorts to himself, balling his hand into fist so tight that they turn a starch white, like flour.

"Hey. We're taking my car."

Our car. Ethan wants to bite back at Grayson. It's our car, Gray. Mom gave it to both of us.

Grayson brushes past him and reaches into the open window to unlock the door. Ethan is standing between the two of them, visibly upset, his long fingers digging at the worn straps of his bag.

"Harp, I'm sorry, man. Gray's being a little bitch and doesn't want me to go alone, and--"

"Hey, it's cool, bro. This is a sweet ride anyway. Hey, can I ride shotgun?" Harper shuffles over to the 1980s Ford Bronco after grabbing his drum and backpack out of his backseat, bright blue eyes flashing over the curves and lines of the turquoise colored vehicle.

"No!" Grayson and Ethan bark together and Grayson is around the Jeep and between it and the hippie before Harper can open his mouth again. He is already fumbling for a blunt in his pocket.

"Don't spoke your 'grass,'" Grayson bites out. "In the car."

"Okay, okay, rad. Rad. I'm down with that. Wait. Can I smoke this, though?" Harper holds up a pack of cigarettes and shakes them at Grayson with hopeful, raised eyebrows and a grin. Grayson's face grows from grim to murderous and all he sees suddenly is the back of Ethan's head as he guides Harper into the Jeep.

"Whoa, there's so much room back here! You could have like, a party back here!" Harper sprawls out in the backseat and Ethan shakes his head with a grin, turning to glance at Grayson and catching his eyes, the look of disgust and horror unmistakable.

Ethan just sighs and shakes his head. "I think this will be fun, Gray. Maybe good for you. Meet some new people. Maybe it'll make you stop being such a fuckin' agoraphobic."

Grayson just flounders as Ethan lowers himself into the car and closes the door, leaving him sputtering to himself. "Meet more people? Why would I want to meet more dead brain stoners than I already have?"

-

It's about an hour before sunset by the time they get to the park which is on the east side of town, sprawling and green and echoing with children's laughter. Grayson gets stuck carrying the stupid drum and he glares down at it the whole walk like it's a demonic child, wondering what in the hell would possess a bunch of rhythmless white people to sit around on the ground and awkwardly play an instrument that they clearly have no business playing.

The sound of the drumming is faint from the Jeep and gets louder with each step they take until it's almost overwhelming as they trudge up the hill toward the clearing where the circle actually is, about two dozen people sitting on the ground, straddling their drums or in chairs, each of them on a seemingly random rhythm but it all comes together on every fifth beat or so, raising a cacophony of heartbeats all the way up to the trees and the glow of the gold and blue sky.

All around the circle and within it are moving bodies, bodies doing various things, in various states of dress and undress, long flowing skirts and long flowing hair and bare feet, girls and boys with hula hoops, twisting and moving like it's the most natural thing in the world, little fairy-like people with long streaming ribbons dancing in the air from sticks they are waving back and forth, some people just dancing, unadulterated, mindless, blind happy fuck the world dancing.

Grayson has never in his life felt more out of his element.

Wow.

And Ethan actually likes this shit?!

Ethan turns to Grayson and flashes him a bright, excited smile that nearly blocks out the sun and Grayson can't help but summon a small one in return, smile at Ethan's brown eyes flashing honey from the sun, his overgrown black hair lifted slightly in a warm breeze, his smile bone white as the curve of moon faint above him. His eyes get yanked away when he smells Harper near him again.

"Hey, man, thanks for the ride. And for carryin' my skins. Here. As a token of friendship and goodwill." Harper produces a small baggie from his pocket and fishes out a fat, rolled joint from it, handing it to Grayson along with a lighter.

"Happy times, my man." He claps Grayson on the shoulder with that same, blinding grin and he's off, calling out and waving to the drummers like a boy returning home. Grayson stares down at the joint, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

"Gray? Bro?"

The joint and the lighter go into his pocket quickly and he looks up to meet Ethan's eyes again, eyebrows raised in question.

"Um. Where are you going to be?" Ethan looks a little worried, self-conscious. Like he really doesn't want Grayson here although it should be "good for him" and all.

This is the first time that Ethan has had something that's been just for him. Moving here has been a fresh start. It was hard having something just to himself where it wasn't Ethan and Grayson, especially back in New Valley, especially when they had garnered a reputation from birth, especially since Grayson's personality kept scaring people away.

Ethan's faded, tie-dyed shirt is bright, and his hair is long over his ears, curling just a little, giving him wings, making him look almost elven. Almost. It's kind of funny.

Grayson can tell Ethan hadn't expected to have to think about Grayson being here, to think about what he would look like while he did whatever he was going to do but now Grayson is here, now there are eyes that know him, know him better than anyone. And Grayson will know when Ethan is being different.

Grayson feels rueful in this moment, feels like he's holding his brother back; he's keeping Ethan from experiencing something basic and harmless and crucial and normal. From being able to feel untamed, uncaged. To feel like a fucking teenager, a singleton, and not like they're fuckin' conjoined at the hip. 'Cause they're not. Grayson thinks maybe he really is the problem. Maybe he really is an angry agoraphobic that acts like a senior citizen on the best of days, just like Ethan always says he does.

But Grayson just doesn't like the idea of his brother-somebody he can honestly say he trusts and loves most in the world-being in a possibly dangerous situation. That's it. He doesn't want to see Ethan get hurt.

"Don't worry about me, E." Grayson gives him a look that says I'm not going to bother you, one that is only ever meant for Ethan and he lifts his head back behind him, toward a lone tree.

"I'll just go hang out over there. I'm gonna take a couple sips," he lifts the grocery bag in his hand. "I'm keeping the keys so, you know, you don't leave me here with the fuckin' hippies."

"I wouldn't but okay." Ethan nods, tries to smile, his hands going to his pockets as he glances back at the circle and back to Grayson who's just standing there. He's considering. Feeling guilty. Feeling like he's abandoning his brother.

And fuck if that doesn't do something to Grayson. Like, it shouldn't. He knows that. But Ethan really does care, even if Grayson is being incredibly anti-social (per usual).

"Go, bro. Be free, E. Go be a butterfly or a spirit animal or some shit." He gives Ethan a rough shove away and grins at him finally and that's the smile Ethan had been waiting for. That smile reaches his eyes.

He runs away then, two smiles back at Grayson between here and there and Grayson watches every fall of his feet.

Grayson watches his brother shyly approach the circle and then be spotted by Harper who pulls by the shoulder and drags him in, introducing him to a few people surrounding him. Ethan's smile is bright and genuine and he's running his hand through his overgrown hair and giving the impression that's so effortlessly sweet-tempered and a little shy. It's charming. Like, Ethan just has that way with people.

Grayson knows just how they're feeling. He shakes his head a little and then takes the short walk back to the tree, giving a grunt as he slides down and sits on his ass, back against the bark, the leaves shading him from what's left of the sun and from being noticed by too many people.

He thinks about their mom as he pulls one of the bottles from the bag. What would Lisa think? She works too much to keep the lights on and their bellies full. It isn't 9 to 5 for her. It's so much more. She probably won't notice the beer, anyway. Or that they're gone.

Grayson opens it on his ring, taking a long, thirsty pull as he watches Ethan spread out the quilt carefully, not as carefree as all the people around him, making sure all the corners are pulled out and the wrinkles smoothed out and he takes off his shoes, sitting down slowly on the quilt and Harper plops down beside him, the drum tipped toward him between his bent legs and he starts to show Ethan some basic drum beats and Ethan tries them out, his thick fingers unsure on the rough skin of the drum. It isn't like his drum set at home where he wraps his fingers around the drum sticks in a traditional grip. This is all hands.

Grayson relaxes back against the tree with a sigh, his eyes on his brother as he drinks, leaving his brain feeling a little foggy, pleasantly blank.

Ethan has a way of being everything, somehow, and every single revelation of the various facets always leaves Grayson feeling startled, shell-shocked, a tiny bit betrayed, like he should have seen this coming all along, like he should have picked up this small piece of Ethan's personality somehow, this or that small secret that Ethan lets free like a caught thing, that he lets slip from between his thick fingers and up into the sky, free for everyone to see, for Grayson to witness along with the rest of them like he means nothing more than they do.

And he knows it's all in his head, that it's probably the beer and the summer and about seven layers of loneliness talking, but there Ethan is, somehow at home amongst these sweet, easily affectionate neo-pagan merry people, now playing that damn drum like he's the next fucking John Bonham. And it's kind of amazing how Ethan is even better with his hands on a drum than with drumsticks.

The rolling paper hisses and the herb crackles when Grayson lights the joint, taking a deep, savoring draw that he holds in his lungs for a few seconds and then releases in a slow curl of smoke, letting it pour from his lips. His bones are already a little melty. He smiles, his eyes sliding open again. Maybe Harper wasn't such a douche after all.

Grayson watches Ethan take what he assumes to be his first hit off a joint and he's too high himself to even care. He smiles, the voyeur to his brother's life, watches as he coughs a little and tries to play it off, goes in for another hit almost immediately.

He watches as Ethan loosens, unravels slowly but surely, his body unwinding into a happy wisp of a guy, one who closes his eyes and sways with the drums, who takes off his shirt in the dying light of the day and dances in the middle of the circle, there in front of everyone, just digs his bare toes into grass and dirt and dances, abs glistening beneath the expanse of purple and pink and orange and stubborn blue sunset, the stars winking down at him from between swirls of color and the fireflies come out in threes and fives, dancing and blinking right along with him, with his twin whose over there holding his heart in his spread palms.

Ethan takes several more puffs from the joint between dances and it feels like years that Grayson is here beneath his tree, smoking his own joint and starting in on his third beer, his black t-shirt clinging to his body in the heat but he doesn't even notice. Ethan is a feather. Ethan is an earthbound god. Ethan is a prince of colors and fireflies and a bright star caught in heartbeats, in tribute songs.

Grayson is so. Fucking. High.

"Hey." Ethan is suddenly everywhere, and Grayson's eyes fly open to watch as he plops down on ground in front of him, grass-stained quilt sprawled lazy on the ground beneath him. His hair is damp with sweat and he keeps shaking his hair out of his eyes, his skin red from exertion and he's dripping sweat, the smell of it sharp mixed with pot and beer and grass and dirt and the leather and wood of the drum and the heat of summer and the breeze that is dragging it all around them, lifting it up into Grayson 's nose.

Grayson grunts a response, his legs spreading, and he tips his head back, beckoning Ethan wordlessly between them. He doesn't want to move. Ethan grins and reaches for Grayson's hand.

"Come here."

Suddenly Grayson is on his back on the quilt and Ethan is tucking in against him, head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, hand spread and resting on Grayson's stomach, their bodies puppy piled and comfortable. Grayson lifts a hand and runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, brushing it back from his forehead and tucking it behind his ears before he keeps going with slow sweeps of nails over his scalp.

"You're heavy. Havin' fun?"

"Yeah." It's a big word, an emphatic one, an honest one. Grayson smiles a little up at the sky, giving Ethan's hair an affectionate tug.

"Why aren't you down there with your friends, E? You comin' up here to say goodbye before you move onto the commune, bro?"

Ethan's hand comes down in a hollow smack against Grayson 's stomach and Grayson wheezes in pain, but he smiles up at him.

"I've been down there for a couple of hours. I just. I kept thinking about you up here and I just. I don't know." Grayson feels him shrug. "I missed you, is all."

"Missed me? But you've seen me literally every day of your life. We share a toothbrush half the time, man. I don't think you could possibly ever miss me. You have too much time with me stored up, E. And besides. I'm the lame, embarrassing, anti-social one, right?"

Grayson braces for another slap on the stomach but Ethan just wraps tighter around him, one of his legs draping over Grayson 's body. His face pushes in against Grayson 's neck and they sigh in tandem.

"You're not lame. Or embarrassing. Or anti-social. Can miss you if I wanna."

Grayson is slowly aware that Ethan is sitting up, that his soft breath is on his face. He cracks an eye open and peers up at him, caught searching his eyes until Ethan reaches up and runs a hand through Grayson's hair and down his cheek.

His smile is full and slow and only meant for exactly him. The kiss is slow and tastes green and gold and sweet as a firefly-lit night. It's so sweet that Grayson's bones ache, a feeling that he will forever associate with summer from this night on, summer and hippie Ethan.


	25. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking to get away from the hustle and bustle of their daily lives, Ethan and Grayson go camping up in the mountains. Realizations come to pass.

25.  
\---

"No way."

"Gray, come on! You know how much this means to me, just let me put it in."

"Did you hit your head, or are you just a natural born idiot? How is that supposed to fit in here? It's too big, E."

"I'm sure if we work together, I'll be able to push it in."

"We already worked together and opened the hole as far as it can go, but if you shove that thing in there, it's gonna tear."

"It won't, I swear."

"It will, and then this whole night is going to get ruined by you, and your giant—"

"This night is already ruined for me if I can't get this," Ethan grumbled, still refusing to let go of the large mattress, before nodding toward the wide open, green tent they had assembled around an hour ago, "in there."

Grayson sighed for approximately the fifth time since his obstinate twin brother pulled out the enormous mattress from Smooth Cat and declared that he was going to use it as his bed in a tent that was clearly, at least to Grayson's eyes, smaller than Ethan's prize. He's been hoping that his brother was joking, been ignoring the mattress all the way through the drive, but now it really did seem that he was hell bent on making the impossible possible, which might have pretty much been their motto, but this time, it was just not going to work, no matter how much Ethan insisted it would.

Three days ago, Grayson and Ethan came back from an especially exhausting round of filming of a video that took them at least one full week and swore to each other that they wouldn't postpone taking a break from work any longer. So after a few hours of debate, they decided to go camping and picked a nice spot up in the mountains, then went on a shopping trip for camping gear—as in Grayson did, his brother was too busy filling the Tesla's hatchback with an army's worth of food—before packing their stuff and leaving the house behind for some clear, fresh mountain air. They had agreed not to film, to not even check their social media accounts. It was just them and the mountain.

But Ethan, of course, wasn't quite ready to embrace nature and let go of his daily comforts.

"E," he began, using a calm and collected, measured tone, "look at the tent. Good, now look at that mattress in your hands. Now, bro, is your plan of forcing something that wide, into something that small, realistic? You can see that it's not gonna happen, right, bub?"

His brother pulled a face, glancing down at the mattress in his hands. "But it's memory foam..."

"Well, you'll just have to give up on it for tonight," Grayson stated. "You'll survive."

Ethan groaned. "But it's comfy, bro. You're the one who dragged my ass out here," he said, then took a moment to glare at the dome, white and green tent sitting patiently on the ground, before huffing. "Fine. But if I wake up with a sore back, I'll be blaming you."

"Yeah, whatever," Grayson said dismissively, waving Ethan away and watching with a satisfied smile as his twin trudged back to the car and stuffed the mattress into the trunk-backseat area.

They then proceeded to fill the tent with all the stuff Grayson bought and the food Ethan insisted they keep in the tent, on the grounds that he was too lazy to get up and get them from the car. In the end, they had two rectangular, black and red sleeping bags inside, along with a portable heater and a smaller electric lantern placed on the ground above their bags, and a cooler by their feet.

Grayson poked it with his toes, feeling a slight shiver pass through his body even though he had a nice and fluffy sock on, then turned on his stomach and cranked the heater up, knowing the temperature was only just going to get worse in a few hours. The lantern was on too, illuminating their small tent while the outside was draped in darkness, the sounds of animal nightlife echoing all around them and making Ethan more than a bit fidgety.

"I swear, if a bear attacks us, it'll be your job to intimidate it," he grumbled, sitting cross legged on top of his sleeping bag and looking uncomfortable.

Grayson turned around and sat up as well, raising his eyebrows. "E, it's fine. This area is meant for camping. And anyway, bears aren't what you should be worried about," he said as a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "Yetis are much more common in mountains."

Ethan shot him a glare, and Grayson couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, real funny."

"Come on, we're here to relax. To have fun. So how about you wipe that grumpy look off your face and start enjoying yourself? Huh?" Grayson smirked. "For me?"

"I was about to do just that," his brother stated matter-of-factly, then grabbed the laptop—into which Grayson thankfully remembered to stick a portable battery—and placed it between them, before flashing a grin at him. "Ready for a Game of Thrones marathon?"

Grayson rolled his eyes. "You know, those who go camping do it to embrace nature, build fires and roast marshmallows," he remarked. "Watching a tv series isn't really natural."

"It is if you're doing it outside," Ethan pointed out with one of those stupid looks on his face that usually made Grayson want to facepalm himself, before adding, "and anyway, just as you said, we're here to relax. This is us, relaxing."

He couldn't really argue with that, so he didn't. "Alright," he said finally and leaned back on his hands, mirroring his smile when he took out two waters from the cooler and passed one to Grayson.

Ethan raised his bottle as a toast. "We deserve it."

"You said it," Grayson agreed, briefly raising his own water bottle before taking a sip, and enjoying this undisturbed time he could finally spend with Ethan without so much responsibility and noise.

\---

They ended up watching four episodes while emptying quite a few bottles of water, and by the time they realized, it was already one in the morning and they were dying.

"Damn, Gray, do something with that thing from Hell," Ethan complained, or more like whined, fanning himself with the collar of his T-shirt before apparently having had enough, and just peeling it off his sweaty body.

"I'm trying," came Grayson's frustrated answer as he smacked the side of the heater, turned it off and on, even shook it like a maraca, but nothing. Somewhere along the past few hours, their heater had decided to live a life of its own and wouldn't stop buzzing with heat until the whole tent felt like a sauna inside a sauna, its new mission in life consisting in boiling them alive and melting the skin off their bones.

It was agonizingly hot in the tent, and it was getting worse by the minute, and when he glanced at Ethan and saw him struggling with his sweatpants, he couldn't quite blame him for trying to shed his clothes, as even Grayson was already down to just his boxers and a thin white t-shirt.

"It's just your luck to buy a fucking possessed heater, seriously," Ethan groaned, and Grayson was pretty sure that what he saw from his peripheral vision as he tried to repair the heater was his sweatpants flying through the tent and finding a new home where they landed somewhere behind the cooler.

"It was working before," Grayson grumbled with a sigh, giving a few more smacks to the evil object, which was abruptly yanked out of his hands.

"I don't got time for this shit," Ethan snarled as he crawled to the entrance of the tent and began unzipping it with one hand.

"By the time you'll fix it, if you'll even be able to fix it, we will be long dead. Our bodies will be liquefied! So sorry, but this has to go," he stated, and before Grayson could've stopped him, Ethan was hurling the heater through the opening, then nodding contentedly at the dull sounds of it bouncing off a tree and hitting the ground.

Grayson watched him as he closed the tent and flopped back onto his sleeping bag.

"I could've fixed it."

"Yeah, maybe." Ethan shrugged. "But not before we would've turned to mush."

"You do know that now that we don't have a heater, we're gonna start freezing pretty soon," he mentioned, but Ethan just scoffed.

"Don't worry—with how hot it is in here, I'm sure we'll be fine for a long while, Gray," Ethan asserted, before moving over to the cooler, a pleased sigh leaving him when he opened it and put his hands into the chilled box.

"Alright, well, how about we get some sleep now?" Grayson suggested, but knew that wasn't going to happen when he saw his brother pull out a small food container, the wide grin on his face making it pretty obvious what was inside it. "Really? You're gonna eat now?"

"What? It's cold, and it's cake. Why would I not eat it now?" Ethan raised a brow at him, grin etched onto his face as he sat back and opened the container, then just like that, took a hold of the piece of cake inside with his hand and began munching on it.

Grayson wasn't a fan of cake and he wasn't actually that hungry, since they had dinner only a few hours ago while watching the series, but he was hot and that piece of cake looked nice and cool, so he only hesitated for a moment before reaching out and, swift as a majestic big cat, snatched the container out of his brother's hands.

"Hey! Give that back, if you value your life," Ethan threatened, rising a playful eyebrow, leaning forward and trying to grab the plastic box, but Grayson pulled away, and he couldn't stifle the amused laugh that escaped him as he kept moving Ethan's precious cake away from him.

"You've already had enough," Grayson taunted, lifting the container over his head while trying to keep his annoyed brother at bay with his other hand. "Now's my turn."

"Like hell it is! You don't even like vanilla. Now give it back!" Ethan snapped, his hands shooting forward in petty anger, so fast that they caught a grinning Grayson off guard and, before he could've reacted, the container got knocked out of his grasp and plummeted to its death, which just so happened to be his lap.

They stared at the overturned container in silence, Grayson both knowing and feeling the mess that the leftover cake has become, his body shivering from the cold and sticky feeling of the food on his stomach, thighs, and boxers.

"Uh..." he said intelligently, slowly removing the container and cringing at the sight. Just as he thought, there were pieces of creamy frosting all over his skin, most of it landing on the sleeping bag, but a considerable amount clung to him as well, the cool food starting to feel uncomfortable where it lay snugly on his clothed crotch.

Expecting a look of utter disappointment, and some probable sulking from his brother, Grayson felt slightly confused when he looked at Ethan and saw him frowning at the mess in his lap, as if having an inner battle.

His twin's silence making him a bit uneasy, Grayson quickly cleared his throat and spread his legs to scoop up the remains of the cake that landed on the sleeping bag, before putting them back into the container.

"Sorry about that," he apologized with a somewhat awkward smile, which wavered and disappeared when Ethan, without a word, crawled between his spread legs and grabbed his knees, the hungry look in his eyes slightly freaking him out. "Ethan?"

"Wasting my cake," he said lowly, mysterious eyes rising to gaze into Grayson's bemused ones, "is really not something I'm okay with."

His breath stuck in his throat as he watched Ethan's finger trail over his stomach, the feeling as the digit gathered the gooey, creamy vanilla filling from his skin making goosebumps break out on his wide chest, eyes slightly widening when he lifted that finger to his lips and sucked on it, all the while watching Gray.

Feeling like he should say something instead of staring at him like some fish out of the water, he took a deep breath and said, "I'll buy you another one, okay? Just..."

"Just what?" Ethan asked, tilting his head as he moved closer, the temperature in the tent suddenly rising even more. "I'm hungry, and I want my cake now. And I'm gonna get it."

Grayson's lips twitched into a skeptical smile. "How are you going to get it if I spilled—" He gasped, stunned. "Oh..."

Ethan was quick, vanishing and leaning down in a split-second, and before Grayson knew, there was something warm and wet on his bare stomach, sliding along his skin and tickling him in a way that didn't make him laugh. He knew he was supposed to say something, the logical and rational part of his brain recognizing that this scenario, Ethan licking cake frosting from his stomach while sounding pretty happy about it, wasn't normal.

But while he realized this situation was most probably one of those where he was supposed to shove Ethan away and tell him to calm down, maybe even get angry or feel disgusted, his downstairs brain was having other ideas.

Ideas, such as making Grayson incredibly aroused by what was happening.

He opened his mouth to say something, but aside from ragged exhales, nothing was leaving him, let alone words of protest. Grayson watched with hypnotized eyes as he lapped at his skin, making sure all the sticky mess was gone from his stomach, before moving down, a strange, sick disappointment tugging at his insides when Ethan's full lips merely hovered over his crotch and lowered instead to his thighs.

There, he once again used his tongue to get every bit of frosting off Grayson's skin, all the while humming in delight, dark lashes fanned out over his cheeks as he shut his eyes.

Meanwhile, Grayson was kind of having a meltdown, his chest heaving rapidly as he panted, then had to force his mouth closed and gritted his teeth in order to keep any odd sounds in, because Ethan was moving up, freaking nibbling on his flesh. He soon moved to his other thigh, exacting the same sweet torture to his skin, using his tongue, lips and teeth to make Grayson's hands tremble, really wanting to just lie down, but at the same time, he just couldn't take his eyes off the sinful ways Ethan was playing with his skin. Then he was moving up again, and this time Grayson couldn't stop the mix of gasp and moan that slipped past his lips as Ethan buried his face in his groin.

"E-Ethan..." he exhaled his name, then took a sharp inhale when their eyes met, Ethan's dark and lustful, a look Grayson never thought he'd see him give to him. He didn't know what to say, didn't dare say a word in fear of breaking this moment, whatever this moment was.

Pulling away from his groin and licking his lips, Ethan flashed him a look which could only be described as lecherous. "You taste good, Gray." he purred, before sliding a hand up the other's thigh and grinning when Grayson began trembling lightly. When his fingers were all the way up his hips, Ethan bit his bottom lip in a way that shouldn't have made Grayson whimper, but definitely did, and chuckled.

And Ethan proceeded to spit on his hand and to stick his hand down his pants, Grayson freezing at the motion. And with eyes set on his, motionless except for the occasional blink, Ethan proceeded to move up and down. Minutes passed as the warmth built in Grayson's stomach, as he wrapped one trembling hand around his forearm, barely containing himself. Deep moans built from Grayson's throat, increasing and increasing.

Grayson whimpered, high-pitched and unmanly as he came, whispering Ethan's name as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving his body trembling, hips jerking and muscles tensing. He nearly came again—and maybe the last few spurts were because of that—when he saw where his come landed, where it was coating his hand, his boxers, as he jerked his hand away and out of his boxers. Then, Ethan tore his boxers off, leaving him bare.

All he could do was gape, too blissed-out right now to react as Ethan stared at him. Then, he crawled closer to Grayson, eyeing his lips.

"How did that feel?" he asked teasingly, his voice full of lust, which made Grayson's gaze lower and, yep, Ethan was hard as a rock in his boxers. Wow.

"U-Uh..." was his answer, and even though he could shove Ethan away and make him stay away, he suddenly felt like a cornered, trembling animal.

His smile widened as he slid his hands up Grayson's chest, making him shiver and feel like he was going to have a heart attack right there, fall apart and shatter completely under Ethan's hands, then instead was grunting when he got abruptly shoved down and pinned to the ground. He pressed his mouth to his. Eyes wide and gazing up at him, Grayson saw something he had never saw before. And it was fucking terrifying.

And Ethan must have felt it too, whatever this was, because he immediately deepened the kiss which started out slow and soft. He turned it desperate, turned it passionate and hot, greedily licking into Grayson's mouth as if terrified of ever letting go, of ever separating, and Grayson felt the same. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him just as fondly, just as fervently, both men using too much tongue and teeth but that was fine, it was perfect just like that, this was perfect, and he never wanted it to end, wished he could stay suspended in this very moment for all eternity.

But they needed to breathe, so after a while it was necessary for their lips to part, Grayson swearing he felt physical pain when that happened. Ethan didn't go too far, though, pressed his forehead against Grayson's and panted into his mouth, both of them drinking the air from the other's lungs, needing so much of each other right now that it was insane.

"Gray..." he whispered, and Grayson listened, tried to silence his loud breathing so he could hear everything, every little syllable. "Gray I...this..."

He didn't need to hear the rest to know what he was thinking. "I know," he said, voice nearly breaking as his heart swelled and threatened to explode, to crack open and hollow out. "This is wrong. It's so...fucked. Sick. We really shouldn't, E."

It hurt so much, but it was true. Grayson knew, and he knew that Ethan did too, the pain in those eyes told him that much. "Yeah. Yeah." His voice was tiny, barely a whisper now, and while they were saying no, their bodies and hearts were screeching yes, none of them able to let go of each other.

Silence followed, a meaningful silence with so many unspoken words it turned the air thick and heavy around them. Minutes trickled by like this, with just the two of them entwined and staying close, so close that the cool air that hit Grayson's body when Ethan finally pulled away felt like an ice pick, sharp and merciless as it drove right through his chest.

"Let's get some sleep," Ethan mumbled with zero enthusiasm as he crawled into his own sleeping bag, before turning off the lantern and bathing the inside of the tent in pure darkness.

This is wrong.

So gross... so nasty.

And every time something happened in Ethan or Grayson's lives, something that was so bad or nasty they weren't sure how to deal with it, they always buried it deep down and forgot all about it. Meaning, this moment of indescribable love and lust they felt was going to disappear, too. They were a heartbeat away from each other, reaching out would've been so easy, the easiest and hardest thing in the world, but it was wrong. And like a pair of masochists, they'd rather suffer than indulge in the forbidden, knowing full well how this temptation could doom them both.

So, suffering it was, just like always. Burying their feelings, believing the other party deserved better, that it was better this way.

But it wasn't, was it? Because if it was, Grayson wouldn't have cried himself to sleep that night.

\---

It was still dark, but not as much as when he last closed his eyes, so at least he knew he managed to get some sleep before getting woken up.

Grayson was right. Without the heater, their tent turned into a freezer in just a few hours.

"Fuck," he heard Ethan curse, so he must have been woken up by the cold as well, which was pretty obvious.

Grayson doubted that even a polar bear could've survived here for an extended period of time, it was so chilly.

They were both stirring, his brother probably having the same mission as Grayson and wanted to find a relatively comfortable position in which he didn't feel like he was stuck in an ice cube. Grayson's teeth chattered, a sound that somehow just made Ethan feel even colder, so he stuck his bottom lip between his teeth instead while trying to curl into a ball in his sleeping bag. With his size, that wasn't that easy as he would have hoped, plus he was still naked, but too afraid he'd freeze to an ice statue if he got out of the bag to get his clothes.

Grayson tried everything—rubbed his body with his hands, stuck his toes in the back of his knees to warm them, curled in on himself and ducked his head with his shoulders raised. And they were working, a bit. He even nearly managed to fall asleep, but then what he dreaded the most happened, and the wind picked up, fluttering their tent and forcing a cool breeze into their shelter through the tiny opening Ethan left at the entrance.

"Gray?" His brother's sudden voice that penetrated the silence made him freeze—pun intended—along with any of his half-asleep thoughts, mind wide awake now and laser focusing on him lying not too far from him. He waited, wondering if he should say something, but then Ethan was talking again. "Gray, you awake?"

He didn't answer. At first, it was only because he couldn't quite muster up the courage to engage in a conversation with his twin whom he only a few hours ago realized he was in love with, then because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep his cool and act awkwardly, ruining the illusion of "nothing happened, everything is normal" they had an unspoken agreement of, and finally because he had stalled so much that it would have been pretty useless answering now, anyway.

But it was better this way, he convinced himself. More time for him to try to go back to how they were, to forget the mistake they made. Mistake...

He will never be able to think of it as a mistake, will he?

But it was a mistake. A very wrong mistake, indeed.

Grayson sighed silently, willing his mind to shut down and sleep. He didn't want to keep thinking right now, wanted to disappear for a few more hours before facing reality; and he nearly did, could feel himself slipping away, but then some kind of rustling sound woke him again.

He was about to groan in frustration, sadness and sleepiness making him a bit grumpy, but then was very quick to shut up and stay impossibly still when he realized where the sound was coming from.

Ethan wasn't in his sleeping bag anymore. Grayson didn't turn around to look, he didn't have to, because he could feel him fumbling with his bag. He listened, strained his ears and stopped breathing as Ethan slowly, so very slowly pulled the zipper down and slithered into the bag, Grayson nearly letting out a small yelp when Ethan's cold feet touched his. After closing the bag, he wrapped an arm around him and pressed impossibly close to him, burying his face and ice-cold nose into the back of Grayson's neck, and just as he began wondering what the hell was going on, he understood.

Ethan was shaking.

Right. He was better at taking the cold, Grayson had figured that one out pretty quick when they were younger, and his brother wasn't a fan of the cool weather, always cranking up the heater back in New Jersey when it was winter, when it got too chilly for his liking.

Grayson never complained, as he wasn't immune to it either, just a bit better at taking it, and as he lay there with a freezing Ethan clinging to him from behind, he suddenly felt a protective instinct, making staying still a real challenge.

The reason as to why he didn't move yet? Well, that was fairly simple. First, aside from his underwear, Ethan was completely naked and pressing close to a very much naked Grayson. And by pressing close, he meant every inch of his body was against him, along with his dick straining against the fabric.

Grayson continued to lay still until Ethan stopped shaking so badly, clearly getting warmed up. They lay still for a long time, Grayson was once again about to fall back asleep, when he felt his brother moving and trying to leave the bag. That had Grayson wide awake, and he quickly turned around and grabbed Ethan's arm, feeling a growing dread in the pit of his stomach as they locked eyes and saw the glint of guilt in the other's eyes.

Too afraid that his voice would break, along with his heart if he said something right now, he tried to convey his feelings through his eyes, but that wasn't too easy when Ethan averted his, looking all pained and like he just did something horrible.

Screw this.

"E, stay. Please," he choked out, voice just as weak as he anticipated, his heart battering in his chest as Ethan's jaw clenched.

He began to shake his head, but then just sighed instead. "Gray, I shouldn't have... This is all my fault, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn't have touched you like that either. That's just messed up, man. I'm going to hell. I gotta go. I..." Ethan trailed off, raising his gaze at the other, his own voice wavering and filled with emotions as he said, "If I stay, I'll never let you go. I won't be able to."

Grayson laughed. Well, it was sort of a half-laugh, half-sob, half-something else. "I don't want you to," he stated, lifting a hand to his brother's cheek and caressing him gently, Ethan closing his eyes.

"I don't want to fuck up our relationship," Ethan said grimly, hesitantly lying back next to Grayson, the two of them facing each other, reaching a crossroad. "You know that, right? What we did, what I... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know. I'm sorry too. Do you regret it?" Grayson asked, his stomach spinning and lurching in apprehension as he gazed searchingly into his eyes.

"No. And that scares me. I knows it's real fucked, but I don't."

"I'm not mad." He tentatively moved closer and pressed a kiss on Ethan's forehead, softly, tenderly. "It's just...let's take this a step at a time. If you want. I love you, man, anyway there is. If this was a onetime thing, that's fine. It is isn't, that's fine too."

He gave Grayson a serious look when they parted. "Are you sure?"

Grayson just rolled his eyes. "Yeah E, I'm sure," he said, before smiling reassuringly at him.

"I just want you to be happy, E. Whatever that means. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. If you," Grayson shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "If you want."

"It's us against the world, huh?" Ethan joked, finally smiling, then laughed and scurried impossibly closer to Grayson, wrapping his arm around him, snuggling. "I just don't want you to leave me...for her."

Alice.

The woman Grayson has been dating for the past seven months.

So this is what has gotten Ethan so on edge.

"I won't. You have me, E," he assured, bumping his nose against the other's and making his manliness uncomfortable with all this lovey-doveyness, the closeness and the softness and how much he fuckin' loves Ethan, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. It doesn't matter.

"Okay? You have me. Alice won't get in the way. I love you, 'kay, and if you want me to break up with her 'cause I'm spending too much time with her, I will."

The way Ethan's eyes widened and as he cuddles into Grayson, it makes Gray want to cry, screw toxic masculinity.

"Thanks, Gray." Ethan mumbles.

"I love you, E. You're my best friend, man. It's just you and me."

"I love you too, Gray."

And then they slowly fell asleep, safe and warm in each other's arms, the only sanctuary they would ever need.


	26. Furry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan gets turned into a werewolf. Grayson is allergic to dogs. Ethan is kind of like a dog. Therefore, Grayson is allergic to Ethan.

It's only their second month, but the girl at the grocery store recognizes Grayson as he plonks his purchases on the checkout counter and starts tugging his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

"Hello again," she says, tucks her gum into her cheek so she can give him a bright smile.

He grins back. "How's it goin'?"

"Ah, you know." She slides a few discounted steaks through the scanner. "Ring; bag; repeat. But, hey, everybody's got somethin' they'd rather be doing."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Quite a selection you've got here," she continues, waggling an enormous shank bone at him. "We don't normally carry these without special request."

"Well," he says, leans forward a little, smiles. "I 'specially requested."

She puts the bone into the bag next to a rack of past-due ribs. "You know these are all pretty much expired, right?"

"I know."

She cocks her head, resumes her gum-chewing. "You got a dog, or something?"

He snags his bag from the counter and lowers his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Or something," he says. "You take care."

"Have a great day," she calls as he pushes through the doors and out into the hot July sun. "Thanks for shopping at Cub."

\---

As houses go, this one's all right. A compact, turn-of-the-century farmhouse with a dark wood interior and a decent yellow paint job on the outside, near enough to town that it's not completely removed, but far enough out on the prairie that it's not going to cause any problems with the neighbors.

There's a big eat-in kitchen and a roomy den downstairs with a tiny room off to one side, and then two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. The bathroom's got shiny new faucet fixtures and a new toilet, but that's about where the "new" part of the house ends – the fridge has to be from the sixties, at least, a hulking avocado beast that hums and whirs even louder than Ethan snores, and the furniture that was left behind – a couch and two armchairs – are even worse, all three of them a mustard-colored flowered brocade that makes the backs of Grayson's eyes ache.

Not that any of that matters – the mortgage is incredibly cheap, probably due to the fact that it's in Northern Minnesota but somehow has no heating system aside from a wood stove, and the cellar is huge, and strong, and soundproof. That's all they need.

"Which room do you want?" Grayson asks Ethan the day they close the deal with the real estate agent. They're upstairs, in the smaller, multi-angled room, a skylight wedged into the sloped ceiling. Ethan's at the window, chintzy blue curtain pulled aside, staring out at the wheat field that's rippling gold in the distance and clearly not listening to a word Grayson's saying.

"Earth to E," Grayson says, gives him a poke in the ribs.

"Huh?"

"Which room d'you want?"

Ethan wrinkles up his nose. "Dude, it doesn't matter to me. Not like I'm gonna be sleeping in it."

"Just choose," Grayson says impatiently.

Ethan sighs. "Let's look at the other one again."

The other room is bigger, but not by much, and it's perfectly square, with two huge windows set in its side. They're both nice rooms, bright and airy, but Grayson doesn't like how this one's so symmetrical. Freaks him out.

"This one's larger," Ethan says, watching Grayson.

"Yeah."

"It's a little darker."

"Uh-huh."

"But it's not shaped weird like the other one."

Grayson lets out an exasperated breath. "I've got eyes, E."

"I'm just... reviewing," Ethan says slowly.

"Is it really that hard to pick a room?"

"Is it really that hard to not be a fuckin' dick about it?" Ethan counters, and Grayson grins.

"I want this one, anyway," Ethan says after a moment.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Ethan says. "You're funny-shaped. You take the funny-shaped room."

Grayson pretends to grumble, but – truth is, he likes that little room. It's stupid, because it's not like they're gonna be here all that often, but still – Grayson hasn't had his own room, his own bed, for – shit, who the fuck knows how long. Maybe since they were fifteen and they were staying in Colorado for the summer in that big, breezy house outside of Boulder, and their drunk of a dad caved and put down the cash for a waterbed because Grayson wouldn't shut the fuck up about it. Grayson spent that whole summer seasick and nauseous and gloriously happy.

Well, he's sure as hell not gonna get a waterbed this time. He and Ethan picked up a couple futons, and those'll do just fine. Find some sheets, some blankets, voila. No point in getting a bunch of furniture for just a few dozen days out of the year.

But even though Grayson knows that the house is purely for practical purposes, it still feels like a big deal somehow, when he's sitting on the front step with a bottle of water and watching Ethan walk the perimeter, bend down to peer in the dusty flowerbeds, poke his sneakered toe into a stretch of dirt that must have been a garden, once. The yard is nice, with a couple big, shady trees – cottonwood, the real estate agent said – and Grayson swears he can hear the whoosh and burble of water from the river about a quarter mile out from their house. It's all monocrops around here, brilliant blonde wheat or lush green soy, and Grayson can see the fields laid out in patterns, rolling up to the highway and then disappearing over a brief slope in the land.

"Hey," Ethan calls from where he's crouched down by the sideboard of the house.

"What?"

"There's a window here, leads to the cellar," Ethan says. "I don't think it's big enough to get through, but..."

"We'll board it up tomorrow, play it safe," Grayson says.

"And we're gonna have to padlock this door," Ethan says, stands and gives the flaking red metal a resounding kick. "You sure it'll hold?"

"Only one way to find out."

"I just don't want to take any chances," Ethan says, pushes a hand through his hair and leaves a dusty streak on his forehead. "After what – I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

Grayson nods, realizes he's rubbing his scar unconsciously and yanks his hand down. It's almost fully healed, but it still looks lurid and painful, curving down over his collarbone to just above his belly button, signature of the gash that nearly gutted him.

"We'll padlock it, and we can hammer up some boards on the inside," Grayson relents. "To be sure."

Ethan nods, folds his arms. Gazes off down towards the river.

"Hey," Grayson says, wanting to cut that brooding, it's-all-my-fault look right in the bud. "You want a water?"

Ethan hesitates, then smiles reluctantly. "Sure."

Grayson pops the cap off a Ozark and hands it over as Ethan sinks down on the step next to him.

"Here's to our new status as homeowners," Grayson says solemnly, and he and Ethan toast, take a long drink each as though it's alcohol and not plain H2O. 

"So," Grayson says, looking down at the plastic water bottle. "I was thinking, tomorrow we can hit the nearest Bed 'n' Bath, get some sheets, some towels. You know, they do monograms there for free, in like, any color thread you want. Ethan Dolan – it'd look good in baby blue, whaddaya say?"

Ethan stares over incredulously, and Grayson blinks back at him, all innocent, until he can't take it anymore and blurts a laugh, chokes on his water.

"Your face, dude!" Grayson says, waggles a finger at him. "Admit it, you wanted it, you totally wanted that monogrammed towel."

"Not in baby blue, I don't," Ethan grumbles, but he's smiling into his bottle, and Grayson settles back against the step, watches as the sun starts its molasses-slow decline.

It's a hassle, sure, to have to stay in one place every month, but – this? It's not so bad. He could get used to this.

They're both gonna have to get used to this.

\---

The arrangement works okay for the first few months, mostly because they're cautious about it, give themselves plenty of time to drive to the house from whatever construction job they've been working, usually end up with one or two extra nights to just hang out.

Grayson sucks it up and buys a T.V., and they sit in their living room and watch shitty action movies and eat popcorn on the hideous flowered sofa. Once, Grayson gets together the ingredients for a lasagna and coaxes the shitty stove to life and they eat the whole pan, plop it between them on the couch and dig in with the plastic forks they pilfered from McDonalds.

And it's... okay, it's not nice, because there's nothing nice about Ethan's – about their situation... but it's not so bad, having a place to slow it down a couple days out of the month, to stitch what needs stitching and ice what needs icing, a place where they don't have to worry about being in a situation where people could get hurt. This is a place for a good night's sleep, all the way out in the country.

Not, Grayson thinks that first night, lying on his futon and listening to the clatters and muffled howl-screams coming from downstairs, that he's going to be getting much sleep.  
But he gets used to it surprisingly fast, and soon it's not an effort to tune out the noise and just drift, wake to the sound of birds chirping and the sun streaming through the skylight.

Until September.

They've gone a little further than usual, gotten a little too confident, gone all the way down to Texas for a two-week job that would promise them $5,000 each– and now they've got a flat tire by the side of Highway 35 outside of Des Moines, Iowa, and roughly ten hours to book it back up to Culver, Minnesota.

"How long did they say it'd take?" Ethan asks as Grayson turns his phone off with a tense, huffed breath.

"An hour to tow the car, another two hours to find the right tire and change it out," Grayson says. "At least."

Ethan nods, stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket and starts chewing on his lip ferociously, clearly trying not to freak out. "Okay," he says. "Okay."

"Fuck," Grayson curses, slams a hand down hard on the car's roof. "I knew I shoulda replaced our spare tire when we blew it out in August. Fuck, I'm a fuckin' idiot."

"It's not your fault," Ethan says. "But Grayson – if – what are we gonna do if –"

"I don't fuckin' know, E," Grayson barks, rubs roughly at the back of his head. "Fuck. We know anyone who lives around here?"

"No one who's gonna – no one who's gonna be understanding about our situation."

"Yeah," Grayson says, gazes up at the sky. "I could call Ryan, see if he – if he knows –"

"Gray," Ethan says, voice reaching that high, exaggeratedly-patient register that means he's this close to full-blown panic. "We agreed that no one was gonna know about this besides you, me, and Ryan. We agreed that—"

"I know what we agreed, E," Grayson says, whirls away from him and stares out at the highway. "Shut up for a second and let me think about this, okay?"

Ethan is silent for a moment, then tries, "Grayson –"

"Shut up."

"We've got the etorphine," Ethan presses. "We've got – enough, I think, to get me through a night. If we get the tire changed, drive as much as we can and then get a motel room – well, a couple of rooms – we should be okay. Then we can keep going 'til we get home."

Grayson drags a palm over his face, rubs roughly and swallows around the clench in his chest.

"I just – I hate – I fucking hate giving you that shit."

"Better than shooting me," Ethan says bluntly, and Grayson winces.

"Don't say that," he mutters, because it's too real, too close. "No one's shootin' anyone, here."

Ethan shrugs halfheartedly, turns his head towards the highway as a truck comes barreling by, tires screeching, dust rising in a thick, choking cloud.

"Hey," Grayson says loudly, snaps in Ethan's face. "Don't think about that shit. All right?"

"I'm not," Ethan says. "I just –"

"You want a beer?" Grayson demands, turning towards the car. "We've got some beer."

Ethan sighs, but lets Grayson press a cold bottle into his hand, leans back against the car and tugs his jacket a little closer around his body. It's chilly, a fall breeze ruffling through the drying grass by the side of the pavement; a rattling, whispered sound like the cough of a parched throat.

"Tow truck'll be here soon," Grayson says, almost to himself, squints down the highway where the sun hovers smoldering orange above the horizon.

"Be here soon," Ethan repeats.

-

Ethan gets himself settled on the motel bed before he rolls up his sleeve and has Grayson inject the etorphine, pumped through a pilfered syringe into the crook of his arm. He goes limp almost immediately, slumping back against the pillows, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging slack, and Grayson grits his teeth and flexes his hands over his knees, wants so bad not to have to see this.

"Gray," Ethan slurs, before he loses all muscle control, and he paws clumsily at Grayson's sleeve. "I..."

"What's up?" Grayson asks, sinks down on the bed next to him. "You need some water? Another pillow? What?"

Ethan tangles his fingers in the hem of Grayson's t-shirt, works his mouth like any minute now he's gonna remember how to form words.

"What?" Grayson snaps, tension and nerves coming out as annoyance, and he tempers his voice, puts a hand on his brother's wrist. "E?"

But Ethan is out for the count, eyes drooping closed, limbs motionless, and Grayson may as well be alone in the room.

-

Grayson doesn't sleep that night, can't. He sits on the bed with his back to the thin wall that separates him from Ethan, chews caffeine pills and works his slow way through a six-pack of PBR tallboys. Flips half-heartedly through some newspapers, boots up Ethan's laptop and tries to beat his score in Spider Solitaire and then Minesweeper. His neck starts aching at around three a.m. from keeping his left ear tilted towards the wall, so he switches over to his right.

There's no sound, nothing, which is good, but it's all Grayson can do to keep himself from booking it over there and seeing for himself that Ethan's still breathing. They've got the doses measured out perfectly – just enough to sedate Ethan completely without killing him – but it's such a close thing, a few bare milliliters away from respiratory failure and a total system shutdown.

"All right," Grayson says aloud, claps his hands, because he really does not need to be thinking about shit he can't do anything about. He shuts the laptop and sets it aside, rolls his neck, cracks his shoulders. His head is buzzing from the mixture of caffeine and beer, and his joints ache from not moving, muscles tense.

This needs to never fuckin' happen again.

He goes out for some air, buys a bag of Doritos from the crappy vending machine and stands outside of Ethan's room in the sallow parking-lot light to eat them. Dusts neon cheese off his hands and stares hard at Ethan's door.

Fuck it.

He slots the key carefully into the lock, too-aware of the pistol in the back of his jeans, and he eases Ethan's door open as silently, as carefully as he can.

Don't check on me, Ethan had said.

But who's watching out for who here, huh? Ethan doesn't get to tell him what to do.

Grayson leans into the darkness, and it may be his imagination but he thinks his brother's room smells different – muskier, harsher. Or maybe it's just the dirty-laundry duffle Grayson knows is sitting in the corner.

He leans in further, strains his ears, hears nothing, and for one, wild moment, he's sure his brother has stopped breathing and Grayson's heart screeches to a stop in his chest then steps on the gas so fast his vision goes blurry – but then he hears the ragged, snuffled sound of air through nostrils, and his knees go weak with relief.

He stays there for a few more minutes, leaning against the doorjamb and listening to the whoosh of Ethan's breath, a steady, rattled in-and-out that calms Grayson down quicker than a shot of Jack. It doesn't sound like Ethan, isn't the familiar cadence that Grayson has grown up listening for, but it's constant and it's deep and after a while Grayson can close his door again and lock it and go back to his own room.

He still doesn't sleep.

\---

After that, things change. They don't venture as far from Minnesota; pass on the long construction contracts and jobs that could keep them away from home for too long – and Grayson doesn't know quite when they went from calling it "the house" to calling it "home," but one morning he looks up and realizes he's frying eggs in a fluffy blue bathrobe and has slept in the same bed for a week and a half.

He blinks down at the frying pan. It's still two days before "that time of the month," as Grayson likes to call it. It's been nice these three weeks. 

"E!" Grayson hollers.

He hears Ethan pad down the hall, poke his head into the kitchen.

"Breakfast?" he asks, hopeful.

"Waitin' on the toast," Grayson says impatiently. "Dude, listen. I've been thinking. If we're – I mean, it's been almost six months, and – are we – staying here?"

Ethan sits down warily at the kitchen table. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Grayson folds his arms. He doesn't know quite what he means.

Ethan sighs, zips up the poofy jacket he's taken to wearing indoors. The wood stove works all right, but they still haven't quite gotten into the swing (heh) of chopping firewood every morning, and it turns out Minnesota is fucking freezing in early November.

"We bought the house, Gray," Ethan reminds him.

"I know," Grayson says, irritated, because that's not what he's talking about. "I just – should I get a job?"

"Should you get a job," Ethan repeats, still clearly trying to keep up.

"Well, there aren't any construction jobs around here. Obviously. And the bar is hiring line cooks," Grayson says, carefully examines his spatula. "I saw the sign a couple nights ago."

"Wait, Gray," Ethan says, starting to smile. "Are you asking – if we can live here?"

Grayson carefully flips the eggs without breaking any yolks. He could totally line cook. "Yeah. I guess."

"We still spend more time away than we do here," Ethan points out.

"Yeah," Grayson says, shrugs. "But it's gonna start snowing hardcore pretty soon. Make it tougher to get around, since we can't drive South like we normally do, and the car is not exactly tricked-out for handling big-ass snowdrifts."

"That's true," Ethan says slowly. "So, what – you're saying you wanna hole up here permanently?"

"Not permanently," Grayson says quickly. "Just for the winter."

"Hibernate," Ethan says.

"Fuck no," Grayson says, as the toast pops up with a ding. "You have to get fat to hibernate. I'm not gettin' fat."

Ethan snorts, accepts the plate Grayson sets down in front of him and pulls his hands out of his sleeves to reach for the pepper shaker.

"Hey," Grayson says, bats his hands down. "I spiced 'em already. You're gonna drown out the flavor."

"Just 'cause you don't like things spicy," Ethan grumbles. "You've got a weak palate."

"Have some orange juice," Grayson says aggressively.

They eat in silence for a moment, and then Ethan says, "Well, sure. I mean, if they're hiring – may as well fill out an application."

Grayson nods, chews. "Guess I'll go in later."

Ethan shovels a forkful of egg into his mouth, grins up at Grayson through his bangs. "Think you get a discount if you work at the bar?"

Grayson cocks an eyebrow.

He hadn't even thought of that.

\---

Turns out he does get a discount, and all the free Fryolator food he can eat. He works a lot, to keep himself busy and to legally keep up on the mortgage payments, so he pretty much exists on a steady diet of beer, French fries, chicken fingers, and these incredibly delicious little crispy onion rings that he can't help but eat by the handful, even though he gets told off because they're supposed to go on top of the burgers.

Ethan finds a part-time job with a local used bookseller, spends all day sorting through huge stacks of old, dusty books and comes to the bar for dinner every night with dust in his hair and ancient bookbinding glue under his nails.

"Dude," Ethan says when Grayson comes out from the kitchen to give him his burger (Grayson tries not to think too hard about the fact that Ethan's started asking for them rare), "I don't think I've seen you 100% sober since you started working here."

"Bullshit," Grayson says dismissively, pours himself another beer from the tap and comes out from behind the bar to slide onto the stool next to Ethan and tuck into his own double-cheeseburger.

Ethan shakes his head. "I'm just sayin', man. It may be free, but that doesn't mean it's not gonna cost you."

Grayson furrows his brow. "The fuck are you talking about."

"Hibernation," Ethan says, and cracks up, won't say another word about it even when Grayson smacks him on the back of the head and threatens to pour beer on his burger.

Except, okay, Grayson knows what Ethan was hinting at. A constant supply of beer and fried food maybe isn't doing the greatest things for his waistline, or his ability to fit into his jeans the way he used to. He's been rocking the sweatpants in a way he's never quite rocked them before – but, he reflects, examining himself in the mirror, at least he's rocking them. Hell, he looks good in sweatpants.

Looks better in jeans, though.

Dammit.

\---

"What're you gonna do if you meet a girl and wanna bring her home for more than one night?" Ethan asks one evening after Grayson gets off work and they're at a booth in the back, empty bottles littering the table and a basket of fries between them that Grayson may or may not be completely monopolizing.

"What're you gonna do if you meet a girl?" Grayson counters.

Ethan takes a swig of his beer, waggles his head. "I asked first."

"You're the one who wants to get all married 'n shit. Have a screened-in porch, walk-in closets, 2.5 kids."

"Is it genetic, you think?" Ethan asks after a pause, and Grayson can tell, even through the veil of six beers, that this is a question Ethan's been worrying at for a while.

"What, getting married?" Grayson tries, but Ethan levels him with a glare. "I don't know, dude. Probably not. I don't want to get married and we have the same genetics." he says, busies himself with a handful of fries, because he doesn't know how to talk about this kind of shit beyond discussions of the basic necessities. Whether or not the locks on the cellar are gonna hold, whether or not they have enough tranquilizers in the case of an emergency.

"I've been looking around," Ethan says, "when books come in, you know? And online. But – I haven't found anything about whether or not my kids'll be affected." He picks up his beer, rolls it between his hands. "Someone tends to kill us before we have a chance to – make babies. To breed."

"No one's gonna kill you," Grayson says, bangs a fist down on the table so hard it sends a couple nervous glances their way. Grayson doesn't want to get fired, so he lowers his voice, but he still feels like yelling. "I'm not gonna let anyone fuckin' hurt you, E."

Ethan looks away, takes another long drink of his beer, and Grayson stabs a fry violently into a puddle of ketchup, wishes they could just drop this, handle it when they need to handle it and not whine about shit that may never happen.

"I just – I'm not gonna have kids if I think there's a chance they could be like me," Ethan says, and Grayson jerks his head up, because this he's not gonna listen to.

"E," he says honestly. "No kid could ask for more than to turn out like you."

Ethan's eyes go wide, and Grayson stuffs another handful of fries into his mouth, scowls at the tabletop.

"Gray," Ethan says in wonderment. "You are so sweet."

"Shut the fuck up," Grayson mutters.

"You love me," Ethan coos, reaching across the table for Grayson's face. "You really love me."

It's not Grayson's fault that Ethan's hair is so stupidly thick, but it may sort of be Grayson's fault that it takes him a half hour to shampoo all the ketchup and bits of French fry out.

\---

The real kicker is, Grayson is allergic to dogs.

The winter is long and frigidly, painfully cold, and Grayson spends a few sleepless, moonbright nights worrying himself that Ethan's gonna catch his death down in the basement, but it doesn't seem to be an issue. Grayson's the one who's sneezing his brains out, eyes red and watering, and it's the kitchen manager who first clues him in.

"You got a dog?" Jim asks one day, out of the blue, while Grayson's chopping carrots.

"No!" Grayson says, stiffening. "What?"

Jim reaches over, and Grayson has to make a conscious effort not to parry his hand away as he plucks something off Grayson's shoulder and holds it up for him to see.

It's a hair, short and coarse, and Grayson just stares at it for a moment.

"Looks like a dog hair," Jim says unnecessarily.

"Huh," Grayson says. "Wouldya look at that."

"You got friends with dogs?"

"Yeah," Grayson says. "That must be it."

"That why you've been sniffling all over the place?" Jim asks, and Grayson cocks his head.

"What?"

"Sneezin' and rubbin' at your eyes," Jim says, demonstrates on his own face. "My boy was allergic to our cat Cindy, and he did just like you do. We had to get rid of Cindy. Broke my wife's heart, but health is health."

"Yeah," Grayson says, stomach dropping. "It is."

When Ethan comes into the bar at seven, like every night, Grayson pulls him aside with a glare.

"What?" Ethan says, bewildered. "What'd I do?"

"Have you been bringin' shit up from the basement?"

"Huh?"

"Like, clothes and shit. Blankets. Do you roll around in shit and then bring it upstairs?"

"Uh," Ethan says. "I mean, when I don't fucking eat it, yeah, I bring it back upstairs. Why? What the hell does it matter?"

"'Cause I got little hairs all over my clothes," Grayson snaps. "And I'm allergic."

Ethan's hand comes up to cover his mouth, and for a moment Grayson's fooled into thinking it's a gesture of contrition. But no, the little fucker is laughing.

"There's nothing funny about this!"

"Is that why you've been, like, snotting everywhere? Always wheezing?"

"I haven't been wheezing," Grayson says indignantly, "it's just been a little tough to breathe, is all. Dammit, E, keep your fur offa me, okay?"

"I just thought you were out of shape," Ethan cackles, and Grayson punches him hard.

"Swear to god, dude," he warns as Ethan holds up his hands in surrender, still laughing.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I'm sorry, that sucks, man. Seriously."

"Yeah, well," Grayson says, mollified.

"I'll be more careful," Ethan promises. "And we can buy one of those roller-things that – that cat ladies have –" and then he's laughing again, and Grayson's still on the clock and he doesn't have time for this shit, so he turns on his heel and stomps back into the kitchen. Eats a couple handfuls of onion rings and feels better until he starts sneezing and gets banished into the storeroom until he can get it together, where he finds another hair clinging to the leg of his pants.

Maybe they should get a roller-thing.

\---

They get a roller-thing.

It helps, kind of, and so does doing regular laundry and vacuuming, so they invest in a dustbuster and Grayson finds himself doing a biweekly, top-to-bottom house cleaning against his will.

"Ethan," Grayson growls down the staircase one Saturday.

"What?"

"Your lameass fucking hair is what. It's clogging the drain again, and I am not gonna be the one to clean it. Get the fuck up here."

Ethan climbs the stairs obediently, stands next to Grayson and frowns down at the soggy lump in the bathroom drain.

"Dude, that could be your hair, too," he protests.

"Are you kidding? I actually cut my hair, E."

"You have pubes," Ethan points out, and Grayson reels back dramatically.

"I didn't get you up here to yammer about my pubes, I got you up here to get that shit out of the drain."

"Why do I have to—"

"Ethan," Grayson says, does his best not to punch his twin brother in the face. "I work fifty hours a week, okay? I chop vegetables fifty fucking hours a week, and when I come home, I'm fucking tired. But still I clean the house because I'm allergic to you – got that? I'm allergic to you, but I'm the one cleaning. And I ask you for one thing, for one fucking thing, and you're gonna say no?"

"No," Ethan says, trying to backpedal, face a picture of guilt, "no, I'll clean it."

"Damn straight, you'll clean it," Grayson says, steps back and folds his arms as Ethan moves forward with a washcloth.

"Gray," Ethan says as he's bent over the tub, face obscured.

"Yes, E?"

"You know you just gave me the wife speech, right?"

"The what?"

Ethan straightens, runs a hand through his hair, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I work all day," he says, voice pitched four tones higher than normal. "I work my ass off and I raise our children and –"

"You don't appreciate me!" Grayson wails. "I wear nice clothes for you—"

"I cook your dinners—"

"I do cook your fucking dinners," Grayson reminds him in his normal voice.

"I know," Ethan says, looks guilty again. "I should clean more. I will clean more. I'll vacuum from now on."

"Deal," Grayson says immediately, shoves the vacuum into Ethan's hand. "You start immediately."

"What're you gonna do?" Ethan whines.

"Pick up some beer."

"You drink too much," Ethan squeaks, bats his eyelashes.

"Can it, Alice."

Ethan laughs him out the door.

\---

It's funny, at first, but after a few days it stops being funny and edges into a passive-aggressive territory that's just a little too real.

"You ignore me," Ethan complains in a falsetto, when Grayson tunes him out as he's bitching about a third-edition Robinson Crusoe he's been searching for at work. "You never listen to what I want."

"You take me for granted," Grayson flutes when Ethan leaves a slobber-coated, hair-sprinkled blanket on the couch and Grayson has to wrestle it into the washing machine, eyes red and itching, nose running.

"You don't take care of yourself anymore," Ethan natters when he comes home and Grayson's wasted on the couch at 2 p.m., eating leftover pizza and watching a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon.

"Fuck you," Grayson slurs. "This show has redheaded lesbians."

"Get your feet off the couch."

"Get your face off your face."

"You smell."

"You shed."

"Fuck you, Pillsbury."

"Fuck you, Wolverine."

"Wolverine is awesome, Gray. I'm taking that as a compliment."

Grayson balls up his McDonald's wrapper and chucks it at Ethan's head. "I'm bored," he whines. "Take me out somewhere nice."

"We need to go food shopping," Ethan offers, and Grayson gapes incredulously.

"That's your idea of fun?"

"Well –"

And that's how they end up at Cub, Ethan practicing his best damage control as Grayson attempts to ride down the aisle on the edge of the grocery cart.

"We need lettuce," Grayson directs, hopping off, ignores Ethan's hovering, nervous hand. "We gotta make a salad."

"Why, you gonna go on a diet?" Ethan asks, but Grayson takes the high road and ignores him, just drops the lettuce into the cart with a bundle of carrots. Ethan sighs, adds a few cucumbers and a bag of grapes.

"Hey, hey," Grayson says, snatches the grapes back out. "Where the fuck did you learn to buy expensive fruit?"

"Huh?"

"Gotta comparison shop," Grayson says, enunciating. "See, you got the red grapes. But Ethan – the green grapes are cheaper. Okay?"

"Okay," Ethan says patiently, and Grayson blurts out a laugh.

"What?" Ethan says, ready to share the joke. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Grayson says, "just –" he waves his hand, tries to encompass it all: the fluorescent lights of the store, the fresh vegetables, the fact that they're there at all. "Every full moon you go hardcore fuzzy fang boy, you know? You're more of a freak than ever."

"Hey," Ethan says, "I—"

"No, no," Grayson says, winces, waves a drunken hand. "That's not what I meant. I mean – I did. You're a freak. What happened to you, it's fucked even by our standards, you know? But, dude – we're in a grocery store. We're talking about grapes."

"Yeah," Ethan says, starts to grin. "This morning I baked a loaf of bread."

"It's just funny," Grayson says, shakes his head. "We're so fucked, man." 

"And I'm a total freak," Ethan finishes, tosses back his head and laughs. "Jesus."

"There's a moral in that, E," Grayson says, reaches over to take the grocery cart again.

"What," Ethan says. "We're fucked?"

"No," Grayson says. "Life is always fuckin' stupid."

Ethan shakes his head, follows as Grayson starts back down the aisle.

"Look, E," Grayson says, holds up a kiwi. "It's furry. Just like you."

"Look," Ethan says, holds up a tomato. "It's—"

"Don't fuckin' say it," Grayson grumbles.

Ethan grins. His incisors are a little sharper than they used to be, Grayson's noticed, and he does this weird thing where he sniffs every piece of food before he puts it in their cart – but he's just as weird as he's always been, really. He always used to be on the internet. Now he's furry. A little less laptop, a little more lapping up raw meat, but, hey, it may even be an improvement. Grayson's heard if you keep laptops on your lap for too long, your sperm gets fried. And he does not want a brother with fried sperm. Fuck no.

Well, whatever. Fried sperm, fuzzy sperm – and why the fuck Grayson's thinking about Ethan's sperm, he's not sure – it doesn't matter.

Ethan is Ethan.

Grayson will take him however he comes.

And fuck if that didn't sound really fuckin' dirty.

"Dude," Ethan says. "What're you snickering about?"

"Nothin'," Grayson says, realizes he's still holding the kiwi, slips it into his pocket instead of tossing it into the cart.

It'll be safe in there.

He'll keep it safe.


	27. In Medias Res

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Medias Res:  
> in or into the middle of a narrative or plot
> 
> Context:  
> Grayson Dolan is the anti-Christ. Like, for real. Or, at least, that's what people think. In fact, there are several people vying for that position. It's normal for these abnormal people to be born with particular attributes, and certain unnatural, dangerous powers. Grayson didn't know his destiny nor that demonic forces existed until he moved to L.A. with his twin brother, Ethan, for more opportunities for their YouTube channel. That's when he-and everything else-started changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This oneshot is over 20,000 words. Yikes! *Blushes* That being said, comments and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I love hearing from you all. That goes for any of these oneshots. Thank you for reading and thank you for your unwavering love and support. ♥

ACT I

"Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come."  
― Haruki Murakami

-  
Before Kyle and Ryan and Kristina. Before Wakeheart, before He passed away, before veganism, before wrestling, before YouTube itself, the static nearly empty, empty like a bathtub, empty like the reflective mirror of an old television screen.

Before becoming famous, before the flashing lights of the photographer's camera, and the money and the girls and smoke and perfume, he remembers the smooth, tender air of New Jersey. He remembers how, when the rain poured onto the roof, Grayson would snuggle close, his cold nose pressed up against his dry throat.

And Grayson was good, then.

And life was good.

Life was good then even in the midst of being famous. It happened two years ago; up until two years ago, and then Grayson had gotten caught up, like a fly into a spider's web, and the Black Man was there, hidden behind a soft, gentle smile, whispering into his ear how wonderful he was, how strong he was and how he could have it all.

You can have the world, Grayson Dolan. Just say yes. Just give in. It's already within you.

And the Grayson Ethan knew all his life, well, he doesn't know him anymore.

\---

When Ethan finally gets tired of running, he stops.

It's a Thursday and outside the sky is blue, the air chill, and he's sitting on the flimsy lid of a toilet seat in some grungy bathroom in some grungy diner in New Jersey, staring at spidery red graffiti on the door of the stall that says "I did ur mom."

And that makes Ethan think of Lisa.

He doesn't know if he went after her or Cam. He's been told that they always go after their family members. Has Grayson....already? Probably not. He's probably after him first....

He prays his little cousins and his grandparents, and his aunts and uncles are all okay.

Four and a half minutes later, when he leaves the diner, a plastic container containing a salad tucked up under his arm and the last of his change jangling in his back pocket of his sweatpants, the sky is still blue, the air still chill, and everything else has changed. He gets into the Tesla, his loyal Smooth Cat, and drives and drives and drives.

He heads for dense forest and a place he knows.

\---

The house has been deserted for a long time.

Grayson would know this house. It was the house that, amidst their youth when Dad was still alive, they'd go to find peace, find solace, and be boys.

Ethan is careful with his hand. A thick track of salt behind the front door, along the crooked floorboards. White lines on each windowsill, pressed up close against the mucky panes.

Salt keeps bad things out.

He read that somewhere. No, that's not right. Ryan told him first.

Ryan had read that it in a book and then, one hot summer day, reiterated his point by telling Ethan that his father, a priest, said evil entities couldn't cross salt lines. It was like playing telephone. Ryan would always talk as though his father lived on his shoulder, his own personal, judgmental angel. They were just kids and Ethan didn't believe things like that existed back then, didn't think anything remotely supernatural was possible until...well. Until.

Ethan thinks the man meant demons when the Father, the holiest priest of the all said, "Bad things" looking straight at Grayson that Sunday, like he knew something dark lived within him, something dormant, just festering, waiting to get out.

Is Grayson a demon, though?

That's an interesting, philosophical question, isn't it?

I don't think so. I think he's so far gone, high on power, that he's like a horse with blinders on. He can't see anything else but blood and carnage. He's gone. My Gray is gone...

Ethan keeps on pouring the stuff until it's inch-deep over the threshold of the room he finally chooses to hole up in, then carries five armloads of supplies in from outside, carefully stepping over the white lines every time and piling the cans and dry food in one corner, his bedding in another.

The last book Ryan gave him before Grayson bashed his head in, years later in the putrid, festering air of the west coast, is the final thing he takes from his car - stowed under the passenger seat next to where he keeps an extra gun he really doesn't know how to use, covered in a musty scrap of material - and he sits cross-legged in the middle of the room, a piece of chalk in his fingers, and mutters every spell he thinks might help.

Ethan has adapted. He would never have thought working magic would be possible until six months ago. He would've never thought he'd need it to allude a person he once considered his best friend, his other half, his...

Ethan has adapted. He has had to.

Even though Ethan knows he isn't a tenth as strong as him.

His voice is rough with disuse and the Latin is awkward on his tongue, even after months of repetition. Latin isn't an easy language. Magic is not easy, either, especially protection spells.

The words never helped Ryan in the end and Ethan's no fool, but he doesn't mind admitting to himself that the familiarity of trying is something of a comfort, at least.

After that, there's not much more he can do but sit on his heels and wait. He checks and polishes and re-checks and re-polishes the handgun he doesn't think he can use.

Because he's given up his vegan lifestyle the moment his brother stopped being a good human being anymore and started being something...else...Ethan eats two cans of cold sausages and beans a day, and saves the boxes of sugar-coated cereal and bags of chips for special occasions, like midnight and the end of the first week and the one time he heard a car outside and his heart stutter-thumped as the engine growled on past without stopping. It's surviving and it's not getting other people killed but Ethan's never wanted a warm bed, or his phone, or the casual buzz of talk on the streets of his hometown more in his life.

It takes nine and a half days for Grayson to find him. Nine and a half days and Ethan tells himself he's glad for the change of pace when the low thrum of a motor chokes off outside and the front door shatters inwards. He tells himself he's ready for this and he's good for this as he cocks the gun and levels it at the closed door of the room, grip firm, hand steady.

It's only when Grayson pushes the door open and doesn't even look down at the salt line as he steps over it, eyes trained on Ethan and a small smile playing over his features, that Ethan realizes he's been lying to himself for a long time.

-

Later, when Grayson rolls him onto his stomach, drags off the jacket he bought at a Gucci store in the Beverley Center four years ago now and starts tying Ethan's wrists to the insides of his elbows, he says, "What if I'd brought Kyle with me, E? I could have made you gut yourself, blow your own brains out, shove your fingers into your eye sockets to get to your brain. Did you think about that, huh?"

He tugs the knots angrily tighter.

Ethan's head is thick with pain and he doesn't reply. When he tries to get some sort of grip on his uselessly loose limbs, Grayson cuffs him around the head and says, "Don't," short and abrupt, and stars burst painfully behind Ethan's eyelids as he goes limp again. Grayson finishes the knots and then hauls him up by the scruff of his neck, right over his 333 tattoo, fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt.

"Dude," he says, wrinkling his nose as he holds Ethan against him, a strong arm hooked around his chest keeping him up, "you smell like a dog. What, no showers in this joint?"

Grayson smells faintly of decay and blood and cheap laundry detergent and Gray. Ethan tries hard not to breathe it all in.

"Get your feet under you or I'm dragging you."

Then Grayson's arm is gone and replaced by a hard hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward. Ethan stumbles and almost goes to his knees on the warped wooden floor. He concentrates on his New Balance sneakers, feeling dizzy as he directs one foot in front of the other and tries not to lose his balance. Out the door, down the porch steps with Grayson close behind him, his fingers biting into his shoulder. Ethan has to pick his feet up to avoid tripping in the thick devil's weed choking the path and it's almost the end of him.

He's swaying by the time Grayson pulls him to a stop, and when he looks up his heart catches in his chest because that's Grayson's baby blue Porsche. Grayson is opening the passenger side door too, and Ethan hasn't seen the sleek, familiar lines since he ran six months ago, the burn of betrayal and fear at the back of his throat. Ethan can't stop staring at it.

Grayson rolls his eyes. "You're pathetic," he says. "Get in."

Ethan does. He flexes his slowly numbing fingers behind him, smoothing over the seat upholstery with all his limited movement. It smells clean, he thinks, and ignores the derisive snort from Grayson as his brother leans across him and pulls the handle, makes sure it's locked for the second time.

Ethan slouches down in an effort to get his weight off his arms, and shuts his eyes to the sound of the engine rumbling into life. Grayson starts humming something in rhythm to the thick pounding in Ethan's head, and he can already feel a hot, angry lump forming where Grayson rebounded his skull off the floor.

It feels almost like the aftermath of a bad dream: nothing and everything to talk about, the rush of adrenaline leaving him weak and exhausted, sweaty and his mouth dry. If Ethan tries hard enough, he thinks he might be able to forget everything that's changed since the last time they were sitting side by side like this.

But this isn't a dream.

\---

Four hours later, he snaps awake, fuzzy and disoriented. Near him, a car door slams shut. They're stopped at a gas station and he watches through hooded eyes as Grayson leans against the fender, refuelling, a bored expression on his face. There's a man in a red pickup to Ethan's left. A teenaged girl and her mother coming out of the shop. Two bikers in leathers with their helmets off, talking over their Suzukis. Past the boundary, bright light spilling over the concrete, there's the darkness of evening and enough brush to cover him.

Grayson hangs up the gas handle with a clunk and leans in to get his wallet. Cold air blows into the car, the width of his shoulders not blocking out enough of the outside.

"Don't even think about it," he says, in the same tone of voice he'd have once used to warn Ethan from pranking him for a video. "Or they'll be dead and you'll be hogtied in the back."

Ethan doesn't doubt that he means it. "Go to hell," he says, viciously, thinking about Ryan, their sweet, dead childhood friend, and Kristina, that good-natured Australian girl who should've gone back to Australia when she had the chance, and hot blood dripping through his closed fingers.

He doesn't try anything, though. Just sits and watches Grayson walk across the concrete, up into the shop, easy as you like. The minutes drag by. Ethan's knee jitters restlessly up and down as he stares across at the dark windows, waiting for the screaming to start. It doesn't. When Grayson finally comes out again, he's carrying a bag in one hand, and he smiles politely and holds the door open for red pickup guy.

Ethan wonders whether his brother has got a gun on him. He doesn't think it would make him any less deadly if he didn't.

Grayson dumps the bag at Ethan's feet without comment and starts up the engine. He pulls out onto the dark road and drums his fingers against the wheel. Ethan tries not to think about the cramping in his shoulders and the ache in his belly. His last can of sausages and beans seems like a long time ago.

Twenty minutes of dark, wooded landscape later, and Grayson flicks on the blinker, pulling the Porsche off the main road and bumping down a rough path between the trees. They come to a gentle stop in a clearing, the humped shapes of picnic tables cast into sharp relief by the glare of the headlights.

Grayson pushes the driver's door open and gets out, stretching long and hard. Ethan imagines he can hear his brother's back popping and his own spine aches with jealousy. Then he is moving around the back of the car, opening the trunk, rummaging for something.

Rope, as it turns out.

Ethan stares at the rough coil in his brother's hand when Grayson opens his door. He scowls.

"You even try to fucking hogtie me and I am kicking your ass."

Grayson ignores him. "Legs out."

"C'mon, Gray," Ethan says, frustrated and tired. "Where the hell am I gonna go, huh?"

"Legs," Grayson repeats, patiently, and it's like banging his head against a brick wall. Ethan sets his jaw mutinously, but Grayson just smiles, tight and weird, and says, "You want to try me on this one, E?"

Ethan wants to hit something. Awkwardly, without hands for leverage, he shuffles around in his seat and puts his sneakers on the ground. He doesn't watch Grayson tying the knots with an expert's ease, just stares off somewhere above his brother's shoulder, out into the dark.

"Right," Grayson says. "Up."

Ethan can hardly move. In the end, it's Grayson's hands in the material of his shirt that bring him wobbling to his feet, Grayson's hands that turn him and push him up against the side of the Porsche. And when Grayson's fingers start tugging at the rope around his wrists, Ethan doesn't say anything, just holds as still as he can, the car smooth and cool beneath his chest.

When his hands finally fall free, he grunts in pain as his shoulders loosen and tries to twist the ache out of his wrists. Grayson's fingers are suddenly hot and tight around the back of his neck, pressing him hard against the roof. Ethan freezes.

"You are going to turn around now," Grayson says, slowly, his voice low and serious. "You are going to put your back against the car while I retie your hands and you are not going to come off it. If you do, I'm gonna find it easier just to knock you out, E. Clear?"

"Clear," Ethan mutters. He pivots slowly with tied ankles, trying not to overbalance, and Grayson's watching him, his weight on the balls of his feet, like he thinks Ethan's going to make a run for it. "Just – give me a moment, yeah?" Ethan says, and puts his shoulders back, wincing as they crack loudly.

"Yeah," he says, "okay," and puts his hands out without a fight.

Afterwards, Grayson manhandles him back into the car, and uses another piece of rope to loosely tie his wrists and ankles together. Ethan can't bring his hands up much higher than his waist, but it's a hell of a lot comfier and he's thankful for small mercies. He's even more thankful when Grayson brings out the contents of the carrier bag: cheese and ham bagels, two bottles of water, a bag of peanut M&Ms.

"I figured you'd be hungry," Grayson says, with a shrug, and Ethan has no clue what's going on because peanut M&Ms for fuck's sake.

He stays silent.

They sit side by side, the only sounds the rustle of paper and chewing. Ethan has to bend right over his lap to eat, and it's messy and uncomfortable and he's probably going to get indigestion, but hey, food and he's fucking starving. He can't tip the water bottle back enough, though, and Grayson puts up with him struggling with it for a couple of seconds before snatching it from him. He holds it to Ethan's lips, and Ethan glares at him before grudgingly opening his mouth, swallowing down. Grayson does nothing but watch him. It makes Ethan's skin feel a couple sizes too small.

Grayson drives through the night without stopping while Ethan dozes fitfully by his side. When he's coherent enough to think in straight lines, he wonders whether his brother even needs to sleep anymore.

They don't talk.

\---

The motel they finally stop at looks half-eaten by forest; small cabins set back among the trees, moss in the guttering and fallen leaves blown up in drifts against the sides. Private, quiet, no one around. Grayson goes into the office to get a key, then drives them around the far side to number 12.

"Legs," he says, as he opens Ethan's door, and Ethan knows the drill by now. Four piss-stops later, he also knows Grayson doesn't have a gun on him, doesn't need a gun on him, just careful eyes, clear directions and scarily strong hands, standing too close and yet just out of reach.

When Ethan can walk, Grayson pushes a duffel into his tied hands and gestures to the cabin. Ethan looks around as he crunches through dead leaves to the steps, scoping the place out, and Grayson knows what he's doing, of course he does, the bastard's giving him the time to do it, allowing Ethan to see for himself that trying anything out here would be a really fucking stupid idea because there's forest and more forest and nothing much else. Nowhere to run to.

Awkwardly, he dumps the duffel on one of the beds. There are trees inside, as well: leafy branches stretching across the wallpaper, acorn knobs topping the bedsteads, pine-green covers and bare, creaky floorboards beneath his feet. The whole place smells musty and unused. Grayson closes the door behind him, and there was a time when Ethan would have cracked a joke - something lame about Grayson being so obsessed with the woods and survival that he'd love his bedroom walls to be stained with leaves - but his mouth is dry and he's not sure his voice would work anyway.

"Sit," Grayson says, and gestures. "Near the head." He's already got the rope in his hand, and the bed protests as Ethan does as he's told, the mattress whining beneath him as he shifts so Grayson can loop his tied hands to the frame without breaking his arms.

"Try and get some sleep," Grayson says, double checking on the knots and straightening. He shrugs out of his sweatshirt, kicks off his shoes, goes into the bathroom. The pipes clank in the walls as the shower starts up. Ethan stares at the closed door for a long moment, then mentally shakes himself and struggles to get out of his sneakers.

He misses the gun he didn't know how to use too well, that he had long ago swapped his knife for, upgrading and trading in as soon as he had accepted that Grayson would never be stopped by a simple blade.

It feels strange without his hand tucked up under the pillow, fingers wrapped around the solid grip of the gun, but when he finally puts his head down, Ethan sleeps better than he has for a long time.

When he wakes up, it's dark outside. There's a sandwich on the bedside table and Grayson is sitting at the desk, hunched over a book, fingers and lips tracing the words on the page. The other bed is rumpled, and whether it's been slept in or not, Ethan's guess is as good as anyone's. His eyes are gritty, his fingers cold from being twisted somewhere up above him, but he feels vaguely human again.

"I need to take a leak," he says, after a moment.

Grayson ignores him long enough to finish the page, then slowly unfolds himself. He unties Ethan from the bed, gives him space enough to get up but follows him right into the bathroom, standing at his shoulder. It's enough to give a guy performance anxiety, Ethan thinks bitterly, as he unzips.

"You gonna hold my hand when I take a shit, too?" he snaps.

Grayson doesn't reply. Just steps back once Ethan's shaken off and tucked himself back in. He doesn't comment when Ethan fumbles awkwardly with tied hands at the tap, letting cold water run over his knuckles before cupping his fingers and wetting his face, taking his time, trying to get a rise. He gets nothing. Grayson just shepherds him out, tells him to eat his sandwich and goes back to his book.

Grayson doesn't tie him down again. Instead, he sits at an angle at the desk, and whenever Ethan moves, his eyes flicker up, watching, assessing, before lowering back down to the page he's on. Ethan finds it kind of funny to begin with: scratches his head, shifts against the pillows every few minutes, crosses and uncrosses his feet, just to piss Grayson off. It gets old fast, though, and after the first few times he shifts without meaning to, just getting comfy, and looks up to find Grayson watching him, he begins to get antsy.

He turns on the TV to fill the silence, expecting Grayson to tell him to switch it off. He doesn't, though, and Ethan watches the news. There's a segment about a few crazy murders sandwiched between the President making a speech about the state of the economy and some famous singer's comeback tour. The weather guy talks about freak storms and early snow, looking bored. The local news offhandedly mentions dead cattle - one farmer swearing he saw someone with black eyes.

Ethan doesn't look at his brother. He flicks to cartoons.

-

By noon the next day, they've left the trees behind. The landscape is washed out and flat, brown and dead from a too hot summer and a too cold fall. The road stretches out in front of them and doesn't look like it's going anywhere at all.

"Where we headed?" Ethan asks, casually. "Tea party with all the other freaks, bro?"

"Yeah," Grayson says, not taking his eyes off the road. "There's gonna be cake and everything."

"You just call them up and they come to heel, right? I can just guess how riveting the conversation's gonna be."

Grayson doesn't reply.

Ethan doesn't say anything else for ten miles. When he asks whether they can have some music on, Grayson shrugs and turns on the radio. It flickers and jumps for a moment, then settles.

They cross the state border. There are flowers by the side of the road, piled deep where the ground is freshly churned up, bouquets leaning against a gaping, splintered fence. Ethan can see the two ruts where the wheels came off the road. He thinks about the crunch of metal as the hood crumpled inwards, the flash of fear, the sudden hot pain.

Ethan contemplates death.

\---

"Do you enjoy it?" Ethan asks, as Grayson ties him to a new bed frame. This one's old and metal and slightly rusted, and Ethan's never paid so much attention to bed frames, especially when back in L.A., back when everything was, at least at first, normal and safe and good. "Killing people, I mean."

Grayson ignores him. His face is close enough that Ethan can feel his breath on his skin, and sometime soon Ethan is going to smash his forehead up into the bridge of Grayson's nose, a nose that was fixed not five years or so ago, knock his brother out, put a knife to his throat.

It's been a long fucking day; strangely humid, the air close around them and exhausting. Ethan feels pretty rank in his three-day old t-shirt. He's itching to get out of his skin, to do something, anything, to fight the claustrophobia bearing down on him. They'd been on the road for twenty hours straight, and he still can't work out where Grayson is taking him, what he wants to do with him, winding slowly across the country like they've got all the time in the world.

"Must have been a bit of a rush, yeah?" he says. "'Cause you have to be feeling something to batter a woman to death like that. And Kristina was a fucking mess, man. But then you know that, course you do, you were there." He smiles, bright and hard, and it feels like his face has been slashed in two.

Grayson shrugs. "If it makes you feel any better, she was probably dead after the first blow."

He moves smoothly out of the way when Ethan jerks to his feet, trying to take the bed with him, the ropes dragging at his wrists and almost dislocating his shoulders. He's so angry, almost blind with it, hissing and wanting to put his hands around Grayson's thick throat, and it's ridiculous, hopeless, because he can't even stand up properly, hunched over the bed, tugging at the rope, the metal frame scraping over the wall.

"You bastard," he says, "you fucking -"

Grayson looks him calmly in the eye and says, "Maybe you should stop trying to bait me, E."

Ethan looks at him and doesn't say anything. After a moment, he turns away and sits stiffly back down. His wrists hurt. He can remember Kristina's hair against his fingers, thick and sticky with drying blood. One side of her face had crumpled inwards from impact and her body didn't lie right when he propped her up against his knees, like it was broken in more ways than one. He could feel the jagged grind of what had once been her spine as he had felt for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there.

You don't know, he wants to say. You weren't there when she was cold and rigid. You didn't have to kill her.

His wrists hurt.

Grayson goes away and Ethan shifts, putting his back flat to the mattress, his head on the pillow. The ceiling blurs above his head, his eyes hot and stinging, and he turns his face away when Grayson comes back, more rope in his hands.

"Why don't you just kill me?" he asks, his voice rough. Grayson straightens Ethan's legs against the covers, tying knots around his ankles and Ethan doesn't fight it. He feels more tired than he has in a long time, dry and worn out. "It's not like you have a problem with it."

Grayson doesn't answer. When he's done stretching Ethan out enough to loop the rope around the legs of the bed, he sits and tucks a thumb up under the hem of Ethan's jeans, stroking a line of warmth against the skin of his ankle, just above the rope holding Ethan down.

"Don't worry," he says, softly. "Everything's going to be okay."

Ethan turns his face into his shoulder because it's the only thing he can do, the only way he can get out from under his eyes. It's hard to breathe around the jagged lump in his throat and Grayson shushes him gently like a baby, his thumb still dragging soothingly against his skin.

They stay like that for a long time. Ethan falls asleep and doesn't feel Grayson get up.

\---

They're a couple of hundred miles into South Dakota when Ethan makes his move. Rears up when Grayson's bent over him, about to tie him to the bed, and his forehead connects so hard with Grayson's head that it makes him dizzy, but it's enough to take Grayson to his knees. Then Ethan's on him, barreling him backwards and bouncing his head off the floor. When his brother goes limp, he starts picking at the knots around his wrists with his teeth.

Finally free, he swipes the keys and goes out to the Porsche. Opens the trunk and stops short because where there used to be nothing, there's just books. Small and large, old and new, and how fucking weird this is, Ethan thinks. Grayson goes dark side, becomes the fucking champion of hell, and he uses his power to rip off libraries.

And Grayson's fucking dyslexic, for Christ's sake.

He starts rummaging past them, ignoring bent-back covers and ripped pages. Underneath, shoved to the side as if unimportant, he finds dry herbs and old teeth, willow sticks, a jar of blood. He pauses. He feels sick.

He's careful not to touch any of it, not quite understanding what they mean but knowing, in his heart, it's something demonic. Behind that, there's a knife, its blade shining in the daylight when Ethan takes it out, studies it. It looks faintly sacrificial. He sets his jaw and heads back indoors.

The blade is heavier than he's used to, the balance off in his hand. He stares down at his brother for a long time and none of it feels real. He gets on his knees, puts a rough hand in Grayson's hair to tilt his head back, places the knife against his throat.

And hesitates.

Of course, he does.

Out cold, Grayson is his twin brother again. Ruffled hair, face smooth and weirdly young, eyes shut and for once not looking at Ethan as if he can see into his head. Ethan grits his teeth.

"Come on," he orders himself. "Come on." He presses a little harder with the knife, just nicks the skin, and beads of blood break the surface. Ethan stares numbly at the slice of color.

Swearing violently, he pushes Grayson's limp body away from him. His hands are shaking and he forces himself to think of the funeral pyres he's watched burn across the country, his own friends in some cemetery, the cases closed on their homicides, the acrid taste of smoke in his throat that he only feels inside, fucking helpless to stop any of it. He knows he might never get a better chance at this, and if saving his own skin isn't reason enough, then saving the whole world from being consumed by Grayson should damn well be.

He's still got the knife, Grayson's still out cold, but Ethan knows it's already too late. Grayson is still his brother, Grayson is still Gray, and Ethan would still prefer to blow his own brains out.

Cold realization is like a punch to the gut.

He fumbles blindly through Grayson's duffel, feeling for a clean t-shirt, sweatshirt, a change of socks, because if he's running again, he needs people not to call the cops on sight. He binds Grayson tighter than he ever would a normal person and leaves him on the floor, not trusting him not to break any furniture he ties him to. Grayson's face is still slack with unconsciousness.

Outside, he slides into the Porsche, rubbing an unsteady hand up the steering wheel.

"Fuck," he says, and turns on the radio. It's in the middle of The Weeknd's "Lost in the Fire." It feels like false courage, but he cranks the volume anyway.

Three hours later, on a stretch of empty road, the car dies. No warning, nothing, and Ethan barely manages to pull off the road. When he checks under the hood, everything seems fine.

He tucks the knife into his waistband, tugs his shirt down over the handle, and stands at the edge of the road, thumb out. It takes him too long to flag down a ride. When he finally slides into the truck's cab, the big guy behind the wheel asks where he's headed. The man's wearing a hat so grimy that the logo is indistinguishable and he's got dirty salt and pepper scruff around his face, but his smile is bright and friendly, his eyes clear and blue, and Ethan shrugs and says anywhere.

The cab smells of pine air freshener and long hours on the road, the seats comfy with age, the upholstery cracked and worn. The driver's name is Kevin and they talk about films Ethan hasn't seen, the road, the crazy weather reports on the radio, Kevin's daughter at college - studying psychology and he's never been so proud of her. He even shows Ethan a picture, dog-eared and tucked between the visor and the roof of the truck, like he shows it to every hitchhiker he picks up. Maybe he does.

When Ethan rolls up the sleeves of Grayson's sweatshirt, Kevin raises an eyebrow at his rubbed raw wrists. Or maybe it's his tattoo sleave. No, it's the wrists. Ethan smiles and shakes his head like he's just a little bit embarrassed. He doesn't look at the abraded skin himself.

"Yeah," he says, and gives Kevin a meaningful look. "A girl. Crazy bitch in bed, if you know what I mean. And before you ask," he spreads his hands at the open space before them, "I've gotta be running from something, right?" He gives him a conspiratorial wink, and Kevin laughs from his belly.

"Got in a bit over your head, hey, son?" he asks.

Ethan grimaces. "You could say that."

At a truck stop two hours later, Kevin buys Ethan a cup of coffee and a cheeseburger without being asked to, and Ethan nods gratefully at him before inhaling it all in less than a minute. It's a pleasure not having to be hunched over his knees to eat something for once. They talk some more; Ethan asks Kevin whether he's heard of this crazy black-eyed virus shit that's going around, and tells him that he's got a doctor friend who swears that laying salt at your windows and doors is the best way to stop it.

"Something about the purity or molecular structure or, Christ, I dunno."

It's getting dark when they hit the road again, and Ethan's dozing with his head against the cool glass of the window when Kevin says, "What the hell?" and wrestles the wheel over to the right as the truck shudders to a halt on the shoulder. The dashboard's lights flicker once, twice, then out.

Kevin's frowning in the sudden silence. "Well, that's never happened before," he says. He twists the keys again and gets nothing.

Ethan sits up, slowly taking off his seatbelt, his eyes scanning the darkness outside. There's no one else on the road.

Kevin tries the radio and gets a burst of static, loud and harsh, and he flicks it off with a grimace, frowning in the gloom.

"Kid," he says, "you got a cell on you? I gotta get a hold of base."

"No," Ethan says, low and urgent, leaning forward in his seat. The shape of the knife is a hard imprint against his side, so close to his skin. "Listen to me, Kevin. You've got to get out right here and run, okay? I don't care where and I know it sounds crazy, but you've got to run - away from this truck and away from me, you got that?"

Kevin isn't listening to him. "Now there's no reason to panic," he says, peering into his side mirror. "There's a car pulling over right now behind us. Probably saw us in trouble and figured we could use a hand. I'll go see whether they've got a cell I can use." He's already got his seatbelt off, the door half open.

"No," Ethan says, forcefully, grabbing his arm, and Kevin stares at him like he's gone crazy. "No, you don't know what's out there."

"I'm hoping a cell phone," Kevin says, a faint smile on his face, like he's covering the fact that he thinks he's made a massive misjudgement and Ethan's actually a grade-A psycho. "You gonna let me go now, son?"

"Wait," Ethan says, because this guy has been fucking kind to him. "Please. Just - let me do it. Let me go, okay? For your daughter," he adds, when Kevin eyes him doubtfully. "If they've got a cell, I'll bring it right back. But you've got to stay in the truck."

Kevin looks at him. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Ethan?" he asks, slowly.

Ethan shakes his head as he opens the cab door. "Not the sort you're thinking, no. Stay here."

He slips to the ground and treads as lightly as possible through the shadows, slowly pulling the knife out of his waistband as he ducks down, scanning beneath the belly of the truck to the far side, through the wheels. The steady silence is oppressive, his blood hammering through his veins, and he wishes more than anything that he had a gun. The knife handle is already slippery with sweat in his grip, feeling all too insubstantial.

Cautiously, he peers around the back of the truck. The familiar bulk of the Porsche sitting in the dirt is like a kick in the balls. He doesn't want to think about how the hell Grayson managed to pick his car up. Grayson isn't in the driver's seat. Grayson isn't anywhere.

It's then that his spine decides it wants to bend in half.

A cry of agony is ripped from his throat and Ethan drops to his knees, drops the knife, gasping into the dirt, his back arched and his hands scrabbling uselessly at the ground. It feels like every nerve is on fire, like someone is twisting his spinal cord into knots, and he can't see through the tears of pain in his eyes.

A pair of boots stops in front of him, and Grayson hunkers down.

"E-Tee-Wee-Tee," he says. "That was really fucking stupid."

Ethan can't help but agree. He should have killed Grayson. He should have killed himself.

"No," Grayson says, suddenly fierce, curling a broad hand around the back of Ethan's neck and forcing him further into the ground. The pain stops, leaving behind just a bone-deep ache, and Ethan struggles not to choke on road dirt, trying to get his hands under him, but Grayson's stronger than any human has a right to be. "No, you don't get to make that choice, do you hear?"

"Hey," Kevin calls from behind, his voice not so friendly anymore, pitch-perfect to accompany the sound of a shotgun being chambered. "Everything okay here?"

Ethan tries to twist out from Grayson's hand; says, desperately, "No, Gray. Don't."

Grayson doesn't let him up. "Oh," he calls back, a smile in his voice, "everything's just fine."

It doesn't take much. Just a slight tightening of Grayson's fingers around Ethan's neck, a brief contraction of the air above him making it even harder to breathe. Kevin gargles when he dies, and Ethan thinks it's possibly the worst sound he's ever heard. Something splatters on the ground about him, and he knows there's a crimson spray up the back of his jeans.

The burger the man had paid for wants to come back up. Ethan swallows and trembles when Grayson yanks him unceremoniously to his feet. Kevin is a bloody lump on the ground and that's Ethan's fault, his fault and no one else's, he knew perfectly well what Grayson was capable of.

"Don't touch me," he mutters, like it will make some sort of difference, as Grayson drags him to the car.

"Shut up," Grayson says, and touches him enough to tie his ankles to his wrists on the backseat, before going back to pick up the knife.

The trip back is measured in how long it takes Ethan's hands to go numb, how soon his muscles start cramping. With his cheek pressed against the leather of the backseat, he can't see Grayson - doesn't want to see him - but he can feel his brother's displeasure in the way he guns the engine, how he twists the wheel a little too sharp on corners, the slam of brakes.

Hours later, when the car finally grinds to a halt, Grayson opens one of the back doors and leans over him, his shirt tails tickling over Ethan's ear, picking at the knots, his breathing a little too heavy. Ethan grunts in pain when his legs come loose, his eyes watering as blood rushes back into his hands and feet, and Grayson doesn't give him nearly enough time to recover. He half drags, half carries him back into their room, Ethan's legs fiery with sensation as he tries to put weight on them.

Grayson leaves him gasping on the bed. He goes into the bathroom and the shower starts up, the sound of water hissing over tiles. When he comes back, face grim, there's none of his careful directions. He just rolls Ethan heavily onto his stomach, pressing his shoulders hard into the mattress, pulling at the rope around his wrists until it comes undone. Without a word, Grayson puts his hands under the hem of Ethan's sweatshirt, Ethan's t-shirt, his fingers warm against bare skin, and tugs the material roughly up Ethan's body, over his head and off his arms. Then he reties his wrists.

Grayson's stiff with anger when he yanks Ethan to his feet. He puts a strong hand on Ethan's shoulder and pushes him into the bathroom, stops him, presses him against the wall. He undoes Ethan's bloodied jeans, taking his time in unbuckling his belt, fingers on his fly. Ethan fixes his eyes on the cloudy mirror above the sink and stands still and awkward as his brother pulls his shorts down along with the denim. To his side, the shower is running hot, steam already rising past the curtain.

Ethan hasn't had hot water on his skin for a long time.

Grayson pulls his shirt over his head, starts opening the button of his own jeans, and Ethan stares at him, bone-weary and not quite getting what he is doing. Then he does.

"No way," he says. "No fucking way."

Naked, Grayson pushes back the shower curtain and wraps his hand around the back of Ethan's neck, ignoring him. Forced into the stall, Ethan blinks under the hot spray for a moment. Then Grayson shoulders in behind him, and Ethan moves to press himself as far into a corner as possible, trying not to touch his brother, trying not to touch the man who's just torn someone inside out without blinking.

Grayson lets him be. He washes his hair, face tilted up into the spray, then soaps up. It's only once he's done that he reaches for Ethan, wraps a hand around the ball of his shoulder, and Ethan's got nowhere to go. He growls, tries to twist out of the slippery grip, angry and resentful.

"No, you asshole," he grits out. "No. Get your hands off me."

Grayson doesn't listen to him, just slams Ethan back against the shower wall, once, twice, and when he tries to pull him under the spray again, Ethan goes, the fight knocked clear out of him. Grayson takes his time washing Ethan's hair, his fingers careful on the curve of his skull. Ethan winces once, and Grayson murmurs, "Sorry, sorry," his fingers skirting around the tender spot, like he knows exactly where it is.

Later, Grayson works the pale complimentary soap into a lather and pulls Ethan back against his chest, his forearm slung hot and heavy over Ethan's shoulder. It feels fucking weird, Grayson pressed up his back like that, naked and wet, and Ethan stiffens.

"You have something you want to share with the rest of the group, Gray?"

"Shut up," Grayson says, soft in his ear, his arm tightening over Ethan's chest. He starts smearing the soap over Ethan's skin, across his ribs, over the tattoo of the girl with a flower for a head, over his stomach, his fingers creeping right down to pubic hair. Ethan holds very still, shuts his eyes. This is fucked up on too many levels to count.

"Do you remember this?" Grayson murmurs, against his neck. "Huh? You remember this?"

Ethan doesn't answer. He can barely hear Grayson over the thrumming of water against his skin, on the tiles, and it makes it easier to pretend this isn't happening. Grayson's hand grips his flank, fingers pressing hard into the muscle, then moves across, circling loosely around Ethan's dick. Ethan squares his jaw and tilts his head up into the hot spray, letting the water run down his face, burning into his eyes when he opens them.

Grayson's grip is slick with soap, working up and down, up and down, slow and sure. Ethan has never felt less turned on in his life. Kevin's face is fresh in his mind, choking on his own death, and his dick doesn't harden. Grayson huffs amusement into his hair.

"You know, E," he says, "I'm the one that's meant to be angry with you."

"Yeah, well. I didn't just kill somebody."

Grayson shrugs: Ethan feels the movement in the slick glide of skin against skin. Behind him, his tied hands are at groin level and he can feel Grayson thick and hot against his fingers.

"I'll kill anyone," Grayson says, soft and intimate. His hand stills and he just holds Ethan's cock, cupping its weight. "Next time you try to escape, you stop for gas and I'll kill the girl behind the counter, the guy sweeping outside. You stay at a motel and I'll kill the sweet old woman who gave you your key - all the guests staying there, as well. You smile at someone in the street, a girl, maybe, a kid, and I'll kill her too, spread her ribs and bare her lungs and heart."

Grayson presses a kiss to his neck, swift and sweet and cruel. "You keep that in mind, okay?"

His fingers leave Ethan's dick, then, creep lower, gently touching his balls, lifting them, like he's curious. Ethan keeps very, very still. Grayson hums into his skin and drags his hand back up, splaying his fingers hot against Ethan's stomach, just beneath his bellybutton, stroking over the skin there with the pad of his thumb.

"I've missed you," he says, a little wistfully. Ethan shuts his eyes tight and doesn't say anything, his mouth twisted with grief.

Later, Grayson dries him carefully with one of the stiff motel towels. Then he puts him to bed, wrists retied around the headboard, and leaves him alone.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
ACT II 

The rope gets changed for handcuffs after that. Grayson goes out for food and comes back with the cuffs, shiny and new, and doesn't let Ethan have any of the lukewarm soup he brought back until they're secure around his wrists. If Ethan isn't attached to the bed, his arms are fixed behind him.

Two nights later, Ethan says, "You can read my mind, can't you?" He's been nursing the idea like a sore tooth, probing at it with his tongue and making it worse. It freaks the fuck out of him, and it's taken him some time to summon up the balls to ask.

Grayson doesn't say anything for a while. He's reading a different book now, pages old and thick, the spine cracking whenever he opens it. When he finally looks up, he shrugs, like it's nothing. "Sometimes."

"Yeah?" Ethan says, belligerent and looking for a fight. He jerks the cuffs against the headboard. "Well, you fucking suck at it. What sort of crazy evil mastermind psychic are you if you can't even tell when I'm planning on making a run for it, huh?"

Grayson closes the book and stands up. "Honestly," he says, "if I was gonna try and do it here, right now, like this, it would hurt too much for it to be worth it." He walks over to the head of the bed and looks down at Ethan, head tilted to one side, considering. "I get flashes of things from time to time, though. When you're upset or angry. Or scared."

Ethan swallows and bites back a retort. His mouth is dry.

"Of course," Grayson continues, and reaches out, tracing fingers down the length of Ethan's bare forearm. "It makes things a lot easier if I'm touching you, skin to skin, like this. Direct contact, and I can pretty much see anything I want."

Ethan growls and yanks his arm away, the cuffs biting into his wrists. His heart is a painful throb in his chest and Grayson smiles. Ethan wants to hit him and when Grayson's smile deepens at the corners, he knows it's because he caught that thought and Jesus fucking Christ.

He should have never stopped running.

\---

Grayson starts circling back shortly after that - back through Iowa, down into Illinois. Ethan's given up asking where they're headed because it doesn't look like they're headed anywhere much at all. The hours spent in the car are some of the dullest in his life, with the awkward stilted conversation and grey land blurring past the window. Before, Ethan had occupied himself with thoughts and plans of escape, of how the apocalypse might still be averted, of how he could stop Grayson. Now, he can't even check out a girl on the side of the road in case Grayson catches what he's doing. Ethan's good at not thinking, had always considered it something of an art, but even he has his limits when days stretch out fifteen or sixteen hours long. Sometimes he sleeps. Mostly he just stares out the window at the world slowly being consumed by the onset of winter, black smudges under his eyes and his face pale in the side mirror. He's been still so long that he's becoming jittery, panic a slow burn lining his stomach.

"Okay," Grayson says, one day, out of the blue. "Okay." He pulls off the highway, up onto the shoulder. Unlocks the cuffs. "Go on," he says, gesturing outside.

Ethan stares at him warily. "What?" he asks.

"You have three hours," Grayson says. "Three hours, and if you're not back by then, you'll be sorry."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. Go, E."

Ethan lets himself out and stands in the cold air, leaning back against the car. There are trees around him, most without leaves, and his breath is white mist in front of his face. He glances at his watch; he's got three hours. He starts to walk.

When he can't see the car anymore, can't feel the itch of Grayson's eyes between his shoulder blades, he starts to run. The ground is uneven beneath his feet, dead leaves and fallen branches, and he doesn't care. He dodges in between the trees, his breath coming hard, the cold making his chest ache. He's out of shape but the burn in his limbs has never felt so good. He doesn't care where he's going, just knows he has three hours and he's not going to waste a single minute.

It's just beginning to get dark when he arrives back at the car, sweaty and exhausted. He thumps down into the passenger seat and holds out his hands without having to be asked. Grayson doesn't appear to have moved the entire time, but there's a small smile on his face when he looks at Ethan and snaps on the cuffs, a relaxing of the rigid set of his shoulders. His fingers linger at Ethan's wrists, hot against air-chilled skin, rubbing gently into the bone.

If Ethan had thought it was a test - in any way not genuine - he would have made Grayson come and get him. It was the principle of the thing.

~

The next day, Grayson shakes Ethan awake with a rough hand on his chest.

"We're leaving," he says.

Ethan stares blearily up at him through gritty eyes, not quite getting it. They pulled off the highway around midnight last night, Ethan yawning wide enough to crack his jaw. Now the light filtering in past the motel's thin curtains is the pale griminess of not-quite-dawn and he can't have been asleep for more than five hours.

Grayson is already undoing the cuff around the headboard, tugging Ethan's arm down and rolling him onto his side without warning, gripping Ethan's other wrist as he snaps the cuffs closed behind his back. Ethan grumbles into the pillow he's got his face mashed into and thinks he's not at all awake enough for this.

"Up," Grayson says, voice tight.

Ethan groans, shifts, and apparently doesn't move fast enough for Grayson's liking. Fingers wrap around his throat and Grayson drags him off the bed, dumps him to the floor, still tangled in sheets. Ethan breathes in sharply through his teeth as his whole weight lands awkwardly on his hands, dull pain shooting up his forearms.

"Sonuva--" he bites back, wincing.

Grayson throws Ethan's pants at his head. "Get dressed."

Ethan stares up at him, wants to ask how the hell he's meant to manage his jeans with his fucking hands cuffed at his back, genius, but Grayson already looks set to go off, looming over him, his eyes dark and narrowed, and Ethan thinks better of it.

"Okay," he says, slowly, warily.

Grayson waits for him to shuffle around, trying to get his jeans on with just his legs and sheer determination, then picks up their bags and opens the room's door, hauling the duffels outside to the baby blue car. Ethan's wrists throb, bruised, one already beginning to tighten with telltale swelling. With denim tangled hopelessly at mid-calf level, he gives up wrestling with his pants and leans back against the frame of the bed, waiting for Grayson to finish up. He can hear birds singing in the early light and then the trunk slams shut and his brother is back in the room, standing over him.

"I can't -" Ethan starts, but Grayson's already bending down to drag him up. He pushes him backwards onto the bed and Ethan awkwardly lies half-off the mattress as Grayson tugs his jeans up around his hips. Ethan hates it, hates being goddamn handled, his wrist hurting like a bitch, but he grits his teeth, endures, and it doesn't take long before Grayson's pulling him to his feet.

He gets shoved all the way to the Porsche, gets shoved into his seat, too, and Grayson's as cranky as fuck about something, Ethan just doesn't know what. It's not knowing that sets him on edge, and he doesn't say anything when Grayson starts the car up, revving her too high and gunning out of the parking lot. Instead, he wedges himself into the corner between seat and door in an effort to take the pressure off his aching wrist and doesn't look at his brother in case he makes whatever this is worse.

He manages to last about two hours, and when he can't hold it any longer, says, "I need to piss, Grayson."

Grayson doesn't say anything, but he pulls onto the shoulder and throws the Porsche into park, violence still rolling thickly off him. He lets Ethan out, manhandling him into the sparse tree cover, and it's not the first time Ethan regrets the loss of his jacket. The ground is hard beneath him, the trees bare of leaves, and it's too goddamn cold out for a single layer and bare arms. He hunches in on himself, goes where Grayson pushes, and waits for Grayson to free his hands when they finally stop.

Rough fingers at his zipper, and Ethan stands rigid as Grayson pulls out his dick, aiming it for him.

"Jesus," Ethan mutters. "'Cos that's not freaking awkward." He thinks about waterfalls, the sound of running water, anything; it doesn't work. Grayson's fingers are like burning brands on his cock, his thumb stroking back and forth at the base, and Ethan's bladder is tight and full, almost painful. He grits his teeth.

"Cut it out."

"No," Grayson says. It sounds like he's enjoying himself. "You said you needed to go, so go."

"Gray," Ethan snaps. "I just don't need you fucking groping me while I do it, alright."

He pushes backwards, not even thinking about it, fed up with the whole situation, boxed in. His shoulder connects with Grayson's chest, and he must have thrown his brother off balance because there's the sharp crunch of leaves under stumbling feet and he's got a fraction of a second longer than he expects to brace himself. Then large hands shove him forward, one at his arm and the other twisted viciously in his hair. Grayson bends him in half, an arm wrapped around his waist, and presses himself up against Ethan's back. Ethan's dick is still hanging out of his pants and Grayson reaches around, grabs it, squeezes it tight.

He puts his lips to Ethan's ear. "If I want this," he says, low and hard, "I will fucking take it, do you understand? If I want to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you into the ground, you're not going to stop me. If I tell you that I want to put my mouth around your dick and suck it, you don't get to fucking argue about it, okay?" His breathing is hot and heavy, erratic.

Ethan stares at the brown mulch at his feet, old rotting leaves, solid dirt. Grayson is pressing hard against his wrist, catching it awkwardly between their bodies and the cuffs, and it fucking hurts.

"Fuck you," he says, unhappily. "All I needed to do was pee."

He prepares himself for anger, more violence, but nothing comes. Grayson just continues to hold him bent over the ground, his breath against Ethan's ear, his body warm at his back. It's painful, uncomfortable, and maybe half a minute ticks by. Then Grayson's fingers loosen slightly, and he straightens, bringing Ethan up with him.

"Come on," he says, and it's almost gentle. His grip on Ethan's cock changes, not vicious or cruel anymore, but about as close to impersonal as a hand around a dick can be. "Come on," he repeats, softer.

Ethan chokes and goes, his face hot in the chill air. It takes a while, and afterwards Grayson shakes him off and carefully tucks him back in. They walk side by side back to the car, Grayson's hand hovering at Ethan's elbow but not pushing, and when they arrive, Grayson undoes the cuff around Ethan's swollen wrist and wordlessly attaches Ethan to the arm rest on the inside of the door instead.

Ethan stays silent, not looking at his brother. He rests his throbbing hand on his knee and lets the ache distract him. Pain is something he can understand, at least.

\---

They drive for most of three days. Twice, Grayson pulls off the highway, lets the seat back and just goes to sleep on the side of the road. Ethan hasn't seen his brother sleep in a long time, and he stays awake to watch him in the light of passing cars, notes that going dark side doesn't stop Grayson from drooling or huffing in his dreams, and the familiarity of it makes Ethan's chest go tight. Both times, Grayson doesn't sleep longer than three hours, and he wakes up more irritable, wound tighter, just to start driving again. Ethan quickly learns it's safer to keep his mouth shut and his eyes off his twin.

Towards the end of the third day, Grayson's shoulders relax. He buys hot food at a rest stop and they sit in the parked car to eat instead of eating on the road, windows open to air out the staleness inside. With the trash disposed of and full of grease, they start moving again at a more legal speed, Grayson's foot easing up off the gas. To Ethan, it feels like a storm has passed safely over them, and he doesn't ask Grayson about it, just slumps in his seat and breathes better than he has for a while, three days' worth of old fear leaving him worn down and restless.

They get a motel room for the night. When Grayson shuts the door behind them and turns on the light, Ethan stares.

"No double rooms left, huh?" he says, just a little bit terrified, his heart jackrabbiting because he spent a good five minutes in the parking lot waiting for Grayson to get a key, and he knows perfectly well that the place is nearly empty. Grayson just gives him a hard look.

"Yeah," Ethan says. "Don't worry about it. I'll sleep on the floor."

Grayson doesn't say anything and Ethan's gut clenches. He wants to turn around, get out of the room, but Grayson is watching him carefully and Ethan's not stupid.

He takes as long as he can brushing his teeth, spitting and rinsing, spitting and rinsing, brushing again until his mouth is numb and tingling with mint. Then he splashes water onto his face and stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. He badly needs a shave and maybe a month's worth of uninterrupted sleep. His skin is pale and drawn, and there are new stress lines around his mouth, around his eyes, creased deep into his forehead. His hair is too long, limp with grease, and he spreads his lips into a meaningless smile and can't see himself anywhere in his reflection.

Nothing will make him venture out of the bathroom and Grayson has to come and get him in the end. He tugs him down onto the bed when Ethan tries to baulk and wraps his arms around him to keep him still, puts his nose in Ethan's hair. "Relax," Grayson breathes, and Ethan lies rigid and unmoving, expecting hands to drift down to the waistband of his shorts. But Grayson just nuzzles against him, rubbing a soothing hand over his chest. "No," he murmurs into Ethan's skin. "Not tonight. Go to sleep."

Ethan can't. Asleep, Grayson is a hot, heavy presence at his back, breathing slow and deep into his hair. Ethan shuts his eyes and lies still, feeling suffocated, overwhelmed. His eyes are grainy with exhaustion, his mind slipping over thoughts without focus, and he's too tired to stop himself imagining that everything is how it was before: that before the Los Angeles coven filled with those dark psychics had gotten into Grayson's head, that the Black Man hadn't corrupted him, that Grayson is his Grayson again, that they could just be creating YouTube videos and managing their business. Ethan thinks, What business? We're missing to the world. What a scary thing that is, to be missing.

Grayson could never keep his hands to himself whenever they had to share a bed. Ethan would wake up tangled in sheets and heavy limbs and he'd breathe morning-stale breath into Grayson's face until his brother woke up, cussing and shoving and telling Ethan he was gross.

In the morning, Grayson lets him sleep in. Ethan wakes up to coffee and a donut, and they watch TV together like it's perfectly normal, Grayson slouched back against the headboard, his shoulder brushing against Ethan's whenever he lifts his arm to flick channels. He's relaxed, sprawled over the mattress and sometimes even smiling at a joke on the TV.

Ethan thinks it's like something out of the freaking Twilight Zone.

They stay at the motel for two more nights, and whatever Grayson had said in the forest, he doesn't try to force him. They sleep together, Ethan waking both mornings to Grayson's dick jutting against his ass, hard and hot, and both times he pretends to be asleep when Grayson rolls over and takes care of himself, breathing hard as he pumps his dick up into his fist, his other hand under Ethan's t-shirt, fingers pressing into the muscle of Ethan's back. Ethan is certain Grayson knows he's awake, thinks maybe he actually waits for him before beginning, and he stares dead ahead at the far wall, trying to ignore the way the bed moves and how Grayson's fingers feel on his skin; trying to block his ears so he doesn't have to listen to the noise of slick flesh against palm, Grayson's breath hitching, the throaty groan when he comes.

The morning that they leave, Ethan gets half-hard in the shower without Grayson even trying, and when Grayson finally drops the washcloth and wraps his fingers around Ethan's cock, pressing between the curves of his ass and rubbing the blunt edge of a knuckle against his hole, Ethan grunts and comes even as he tries to push away.

"It's okay," Grayson murmurs, arms wrapped around him, riding through Ethan's violent struggles. "It's okay."

"Shut up," Ethan grits out, heart thudding with orgasm, hating himself.

-

Back on the road, he thinks a lot about Ryan and about how Ryan died. Ethan had been chasing after Grayson for months, always just two steps behind, and he doesn't remember a whole lot from that day when he had finally caught up on the west coast. Everything is a meaningless jumble, blurry and painful, everything but the sounds Ryan made, everything but what Grayson's face looked like, pale and stark in the gloom, horrifically unchanged after a nearly a year of murdering people he would have once called friends. Grayson's hand had been slick with Ryan's blood as he traced steady fingers down Ethan's cheek, and it was that moment when Ethan's insides had crumpled, tears streaming unchecked down his face, realization sinking in: there would be no saving his brother. This was Grayson now, and Ryan had died because Ethan had refused to believe him when his childhood best friend had said his brother was gone, that Grayson was something else now, something irreversibly evil. Demonic. Like the stories Ryan's preacher father used to talk about while looking Grayson dead in the eyes across the congregation as though sensing something wasn't quite right with the youngest Dolan.

When the invisible force pressing him to the wall had lifted, Ethan had staggered and ran, not looking back, wanting as far away from that touch as possible.

He hadn't stopped running for half a year.

"Stop it," Grayson says, suddenly, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Ethan doesn't answer. He can't even bring himself to look at his brother, so he stares out the window at the brown, empty fields rushing by. He feels dirty, wretched, like he wants to crawl out of his skin. He tries but he can't block out the sense-memory of Grayson's hand on him in the shower, jerking him off hot and steady - how he had liked it - so he overlays it with Ryan's death, with Kristina's, with all the friends and assistances and business partners and the countless civilians that had been butchered.

The guilt helps.

The next motel they stop at, Grayson gets a king and cuffs Ethan too tight to the frame before shucking his jeans and climbing in next to him, wrapping himself around him. Ethan tries to put an elbow in his face, a knee in his groin, and Grayson growls and presses him flat.

"I still have the rope, Ethan. Don't think I won't make it so you can't move at all."

"You're such a romantic," Ethan says, smiling up into Grayson's face, hard and mean, too much teeth. "What's the matter? You leave all your roofies back with your fucked up coven friends?"

Grayson leans in so close that Ethan can smell him, road-sweat and dust. "If I wanted you like that, don't think I'd need drugs," he says.

Ethan glares at him, but when Grayson eases up a little bit, he doesn't kick out again. Instead, he rolls onto his side and hunches his shoulders, twitching with the overwhelming need to get away when Grayson plasters himself to his back once more, hot and oppressive.

Falling asleep isn't easy and his dreams aren't happy. Dark and miserable, he wakes up sweaty and aching, his fists clenched and his muscles tight with strain, more exhausted than when he had shut his eyes.

\---

Three motels and three kings later, Grayson pulls off to park on the roadside and turns to look at him.

"Same deal," he says, bluntly. "And if you try to run, I'll hamstring you."

Ethan stares at him, hollow eyed.

"You need to get over this," Grayson says, digging out the keys and roughly tugging him over to uncuff him. "What you think about, you need to stop it."

Ethan laughs without humour, worn down and close to not caring anymore. "Sure thing."

He rubs his wrists, goes for the door handle, and stops when Grayson grips his arm.

"Three hours," Grayson says, hard.

Ethan nods, doesn't look at him. Grayson lets go and he gets out the car, bracing himself for the cold that knifes through him. Scrubland stretches in front of him, to his sides, and over the rise there are trees standing black and skeletal against the sky. Ethan's hands are unsteady, his limbs leaden with tiredness, but he starts running anyway, his breath coming hard. It feels good.

He's shaking by the time he gets among the trees and he has to stop, bent over his knees, panting. The air is still bitter but he's warm with pumping blood and it doesn't bother him. Waiting for his heart rate to slow, he walks further in, careful where he puts his feet. He doesn't once look back towards the Porsche.

He's meandering between the trees, a good distance in, when he stops, strips off his t-shirt. His nipples peak with cold, the hairs on his arms rise, and he starts tearing the material into thick strips, tying them together tightly, twisting it for strength. He doesn't think anything of it until he begins fashioning a noose at one end, and then he realizes what he's doing, realizes what it means, tries to stop himself.

He can't. There are whispers in his mind, curling around his consciousness, cold and unfeeling. They sound like his breathing, his heartbeat, his thoughts, almost not there.

His fingers are deft on the fabric, finishing the noose off neatly. Shivering with more than cold, he walks to a nearby tree, ties one end of the makeshift rope to a low-hanging branch. Above him, there's the rustle of wings and the jagged shriek of a crow as it takes flight, echoing too loud through the empty woods, and Ethan is fighting every step of the way, his jaw clenched tight with effort, his head screaming at him.

His own hands lower the business end of the rope over his head, cinching the noose around his neck, and he drops down almost to his knees on the cold, hard mud, letting the rope draw tight around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Self-strangulation isn't the quickest way to go. Ethan hangs there and listens to the whispering that twists in his mind, letting gravity do most of the work for him, his eyes watering and black spots dancing across his vision, the rope cutting into his neck and choking his breaths. He's trembling in the winter air, slumped and unmoving, his hands loose and useless at his sides. Panic is a tight knot in the centre of his chest because he doesn't want to go like this, doesn't want to be found hanging at the end of a rope, limp and dead and cold, by an angry Grayson however many hours later. It comes as something of a surprise to Ethan, but he doesn't feel ready to go just yet. Grayson paid dearly for this crappy excuse of a life and that still means a hell of a lot.

He's on the verge of unconsciousness, noise rushing in his ears and his whole head pounding with his heartbeat. Then, suddenly, he's shoved backwards, up off the ground. He thumps hard against the tree trunk, pinned there by invisible pressure, feet dangling, his head lolling forward. The noose loosens just enough and he breathes in raggedly, filling his chest and coughing, his head spinning and a line of fire striped across his neck. The rope hangs loosely at his side, brushing against his bare skin.

The whispering becomes louder, burning through his brain, terrible and resolute. His hands are even more desperate to grab the rope, want to tug it tight again, finish what they started, but he can't move and they just twitch ineffectually by his sides.

He wants to laugh but it hurts too much, so he just hangs there, gasping.

He hears Grayson before he sees him, crashing fast through the undergrowth, and his hands go limp, finally his own, the touch in his mind fading. He raises his head and finds his brother among the trees, watches him approach. Grayson slows to a jog as he gets nearer, then to jerky, stiff steps, but he doesn't stop until he's got his hands splayed on Ethan's chest, lowering him carefully to the ground as the force keeping him pinned lifts. Breathing hard, Grayson kneels beside him, high spots of colour on his cheeks, and his eyes are furious as he runs two fingers under the noose, loosening it gently before pulling it off. Ethan sits slumped against the tree like a rag doll, shivering and shaking with adrenaline, unable to do anything else.

"You're okay," Grayson breathes, unable to stop touching him, his hands cupping his face, brushing against his neck, smoothing down his arms. "You're okay, Ethan. Come on. That's it."

He puts a solid arm around Ethan's back, pulling him forward until Ethan's got his face against Grayson's chest, breathing him in. Ethan can smell Grayson's panic, his sweat, and the heartbeat against his cheek is too fast. Grayson rubs his hands roughly up Ethan's arms, over his back, warmth tingling in his wake like proof of life, and it feels okay to just rest there, leaning against his brother, just the two of them against the world.

Damp leaves rustle under Grayson's weight as he shifts, bringing a hand up and tilting Ethan's chin backwards so he can look into his eyes, face-to-face; Grayson's expression is terrible. "That son of a bitch won't manage that again," he says, a promise. His arm tightens around Ethan for a moment, just holding him. Then he leans away enough to shrug out of his hoodie and bundles Ethan up in it before lifting him to his feet, supporting him as Ethan stumbles. "Come on," Grayson says. "Let's get you back to the car."

The walk back is long and cold and slow. Ethan could probably manage it on his own, but he doesn't let go of Grayson and Grayson doesn't let go of him. Grayson's hand is tight around his waist, keeping him close, and Ethan's got his arm hooked over Grayson's shoulders. They don't talk.

Grayson puts him into the Porsche and goes around to the trunk, returning with the warm gray blanket Ethan had bought years ago when they moved into their first house in L.A.. He bats Ethan's hands away when Ethan tries to take it from him, and Ethan lets himself be wrapped up and tucked in, letting his head fall back against the seat. Grayson doesn't cuff him again, just shuts the passenger side door, and Ethan watches him as he stands outside, shoulders rigid and breathing hard, staring back towards the stretch of woods, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Finally, he turns and gets in the car. He doesn't say anything, just reaches out and puts a hand on Ethan's knee, gripping tight and closing his eyes, breathing in deeply. Watching his brother get himself back under control, Ethan remembers the expression on Grayson's face when he had found him, remembers how careful Grayson's hands had been when he had slipped the noose from around his neck; Grayson had been terrified.

It's the first time since everything went to hell that Ethan allows himself to consider that maybe Grayson cares for him just as much as he once did. The thought rocks him to his very core, hollow and painful, because it shouldn't be possible, evil is evil, and Ethan knows that first hand: Grayson had taught him it.

He wonders what has changed.

Finally, Grayson takes his hand away and starts the engine. He makes a messy U-turn, tires crunching through grit on the other side of the road and drives a good ten miles back the way they had come before taking a different exit. They're not headed anywhere, Ethan knows that now, and it took being half-throttled for things to start making a dreadful kind of sense.

"So this is running, right?" he asks. His neck is bruised deep, his voice coming out as a pained gasp. "All this driving."

Grayson doesn't look at him.

Ethan shifts uncomfortably. "Back there. That was Kyle, wasn't it? With his freaky mind control thing. So you're - you're gonna have to explain this to me, Grayson, because last I checked, it was you running the damn show. Last time I checked; you were the leader of the coven."

Grayson's hands shift on the wheel, tighten, and Ethan doesn't think he's going to answer.

Then: "They want you dead."

Ethan gingerly prods at his neck and winces, snorts softly. "I'd never have guessed. Throw me a bone here, Gray."

"With you dead, I'll go back to them." Grayson glances at him, smiles grim and small. "Humanity probably wouldn't appreciate that."

Ethan takes his time processing the words. The Porsche thrums beneath him, through the blanket and to his skin, and he's not cold anymore. "Do you --" He swallows. He's finding it difficult to look at Grayson and he grits his teeth, tells himself to fucking grow a pair. "So that whole I'm-the-anti-Christ-and-I-want-the-apocalypse-to-happen-and-the-streets-to-run-red-for-fun thing...you're not -" Grayson looks at him. "Not interested anymore?"

His heart feels like a stone in his chest, heavy and aching. He waits.

Grayson watches the road instead of meeting his eyes and shrugs, like it's no big deal at all. "Maybe."

Ethan has no answer to that.

-

Whatever else the consequence of Kyle finding him in the woods, Ethan feels more alive than he has in a long time. There's something about the very real threat of death that sharpens the world, like wiping a smeared window clean. He hums along to a song on the radio, squints in disgust at the china kittens on the chest of drawers in the motel room, enjoys his pizza so much that Grayson gives him a couple of pieces of his mushroom and ham, even if it hurts his throat to swallow.

Grayson, though, stays stiff and silent. As soon as they were both inside, he had locked the door of the motel room like it would help if hell decided to come a-knocking, standing by the window and gazing out into the dark parking lot. He had moved since then, but not far, and now he sits in the chair in the corner, eyes flicking between the window and the bed.

"Maybe you could give me a gun," Ethan says, his voice still rough and painful. He's propped up against the headboard, and shrugs defensively when Grayson turns cold eyes to look at him. "I'm just saying. If I could protect myself --"

"No," Grayson says.

Ethan huffs, not exactly surprised, but not exactly happy about the situation either. He fingers his neck; the skin is rough with abrasion, bruises biting deep. Grayson catches what he's doing, his face darkening as his gaze lingers on Ethan's throat. Ethan pulls his hand away abruptly.

"So," he says. "How many are we up against?"

"All of them." Grayson pauses, his brow drawing down into a frown. "All five of 'em."

Ethan waits but Grayson doesn't look like he's going to expand on that.

"Okay," he says, with a tight nod. "Okay, this is manageable. What are the odds a bunch of insane, demonic freaks against you, Gray? How many do you reckon you could face in one go?" He frowns, thinking aloud.

"Or maybe you could, uh, hunt them off. One by one."

"No," Grayson interrupts him.

"But -"

"No." Grayson's eyes focus cool and steady on Ethan from across the room. "It's too dangerous to take you with me, and it's too dangerous for me to leave you behind. If they attack us directly, I'll have no choice but to deal with them, but until that happens it's safer to run."

"Safer?" Ethan chokes. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. Safer is hanging around, waiting for one of them to take another pop at me? Maybe next time it'll be drowning. Hell, that wouldn't be too hard - run a sink full of water, bend over, breathe in. Quick and easy. Lucky for us your friends are a load of dumbfucks, really."

"Shut up," Grayson says, sharply. Agitated, he gets up, hands clenched into fists at his side. "They won't get anywhere near you. I made a mistake and it won't happen again."

"What, so you're planning on keeping me tied to your side until I die, is that it?" Ethan snaps. His brother looks at him like it's a perfectly reasonable solution. "FUCK, Gray! Has it escaped your notice that hell is literally trying to take over, here? If we don't do something about it, then they're going to damn well succeed, and where does that leave our cosy little roadtrip, huh?"

Grayson's jaw tightens. "I can protect you."

"Hell. On earth. Am I not getting this through to you, Grayson? Humanity will be wiped out."

Grayson just looks at him, his face expressionless. It makes Ethan furious.

"Fuck you," he spits.

"I can protect you," Grayson repeats, firm. He walks towards the bed, reaches for Ethan, but Ethan scrambles away, sliding off the bed and standing up on the far side, glaring across at him.

"Who says I want you protecting me?" he asks, voice hard. "Who says I want you anywhere near me? Last time I checked, you were more dangerous than anything else out there."

Grayson's face darkens. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Really." Ethan smiles. "Now isn't that just fucking funny. Why don't you do yourself a favor and go screw yourself, Grayson. Between you not wanting to hurt me and the others wanting to kill me, I'd probably be better off with the Satanists."

Grayson's rounding the bed at that, backing Ethan into the corner, and it's only when he gets closer that Ethan realizes just how angry his brother is, how his shoulders are a rigid, tense line, how his breaths are coming hard and heavy. It's with a strange jolt of panic that it dawns on Ethan that he's finally scored a hit, pushed Grayson too far.

"You want me to treat you like the others would, Ethan?" Grayson asks, softly. "You want me to tie you down and play with your body and soul until you go mad?" He presses closer, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "You want me to show you what I'm really capable of?"

Ethan wets his dry lips and shakes his head. "No," he admits, wanting to back up further, away. The wall is at his back, though, and there's nowhere to go.

Grayson presses his hands against the wall either side of Ethan's head, boxing him in. He smiles, tight and cruel, his anger thick in the air between them. "Maybe it's a little too late for that now, E. Maybe afterwards you won't be so quick to shoot your mouth off about something you don't understand, hmm?"

Ethan's heart crawls up his throat.

There's no conscious thought involved; fight or flight, instinct. With his hands splayed on the wall, Grayson's t-shirt has ridden up, showing flat, muscular stomach, and Ethan puts his hand out, presses his fingers against the warm, bare skin there. Maybe it's because he remembers what Grayson said about being able to read anything in Ethan's head if they were skin to skin. Maybe it's because he remembers how Grayson had gripped his knee in the car, as if trying to calm himself. Maybe there's no tangible reason at all.

Ethan swallows and Grayson stares at him, glances down at the hand on his stomach, then back up, his expression shuttered. They stand like that for a very long time, until, slowly, with the rising fear that he's done the wrong thing, Ethan lets his hand drop.

"Sorry," he says, bracing himself. "Sorry."

He's not expecting it when Grayson takes a step back. For a long moment, his brother doesn't move any further, just watches him, a strange expression on his face. Then he turns his back on Ethan, goes to the window, braces his hands against the sill and stares out into the night.

Ethan rubs a hand over his face. His ears are ringing, and he has to shake himself to movement. Walking unsteadily to the bathroom, he locks himself in and sits on the corner of the tub. He has to put his hands between his knees to stop them from trembling.

It's a while before he comes out again. Grayson is already in bed and Ethan looks from him to the window.

"They're not coming," Grayson says.

Ethan doesn't say anything. He sits awkwardly on the edge of the mattress and toes his shoes off, but doesn't make any other effort to get ready for bed. He can feel Grayson's eyes on his back but doesn't turn to look at him. The fight still lingers in the air.

"Why me?" he asks, after a moment. "Because I'm family, is that it? You know the others killed theirs, right?" Father, sister, brother, it didn't matter; Ethan had figured that out when he did a little research on Grayson's new "friends" back in the day, back when he really didn't understand what was happening, and learned. There were small slices of suburbia where no devil-touched child could have ever belonged, blood-soaked carpets, smashed picture frames: revenge. "The others-"

Like you, Grayson. Touched by the Black Man.

The bed creaks as Grayson shifts and an arm wraps around Ethan's waist, tugging him backwards. Ethan sets his jaw but lets it happen; the need for answers is stronger than any lingering fear or consideration of right and wrong, stronger than the desire to pull away.

The pillows are soft beneath his head, the pale pink covers bubbly with washes. Grayson props himself up on one elbow and leans over Ethan, regarding him silently, his other hand resting loose and warm against his hip.

"I don't know," he says.

"Yeah," Ethan says, bitterly, and tries to get up. The hand against his hip tenses, holding him down.

"I mean it." Grayson's eyes are hard. "It wasn't always this way. After Ryan, I was going to kill you. I wanted to make you bleed, Ethan, make you scream. But then -- I don't know, I saw you, I touched you, and I couldn't do it."

Ethan looks at him for a long time. Finally, he makes himself relax back against the covers. "So this is what? An accident? You...you haven't gone after...any family, right?"

The thought that Grayson, realizing he didn't have it in him to kill Ethan, had gone after the rest of the family, makes Ethan's heart thud in his chest painfully, makes his skin feel too tight.

"No, I haven't." Grayson says, softly. His fingers find Ethan's throat, tracing softly over the damaged skin there and making Ethan swallow, gooseflesh rising on his arms. "I've been looking, reading up on it, but I've found nothing yet."

The books in the trunk. Ethan snorts, shakes his head.

"If there's one thing you are, it's unpredictable, you know that?"

Grayson tilts his head and looks at him, surprise written on his features. Then he smiles, white teeth on show, and shrugs. His thumb brushes against the underside of Ethan's jaw, almost a caress. It makes Ethan look away, uncomfortable once more.

That night, Ethan lies awake for a long time in the darkness, just thinking. Grayson's arm is slung over his hip, hot and heavy and keeping him from moving, but not as terrible as it should be.

He thinks about Mom and even about Dad. He thinks how fucked up this whole thing is and how to save his brother from himself.

Before he falls asleep, he makes himself roll over so he's facing Grayson, rather than away.

\---

"These books," Ethan says, the next morning. Grayson looks up. "I can help."

Grayson's eyes narrow, suspicious. Ethan doesn't dare ask how Grayson has figured out how to read so fluently; he figures it has something to do with his powers.

"Come on," Ethan says. He gets up, hovers at Grayson's shoulder, eyeing the small pile of books on the table. "I'm tired of watching TV. I want something to do." He reaches for a promising looking one, thick and brown with age.

Grayson grabs his wrist, fingers wrapping tight around bone.

"Not that one," he says. "I've already been through it. Here, one of these."

He gestures to three of the most boring looking ones in the whole pile; new and not even leather bound. Ethan rolls his eyes. "Thanks," he says, dryly, and picks up the green one, moving back to the bed, the book clutched against his chest.

The book, as it turns out, isn't boring; just deeply disturbing. Ethan's always thought he's got quite a healthy fascination with sex - doing it, watching it - but reading about demon sexual practices and rituals makes him want to bleach his eyeballs clean. And there are pictures, for Christ's sake. Pictures. He flicks to the inside of the front cover, curious as to where the hell Grayson picked it up.

Property of Lewiston Public Library.

Idaho, Ethan thinks. Figures.

He had made it out that far west again during the months he had been running, stayed just outside Lewiston in a quaint little motel that smelled of mothballs. Ethan doesn't particularly like the West, prefers New England and its small, open roads, and lush, tall trees, but he had thought there was no better place to lose Grayson, somewhere they both barely know.

It seems he had been wrong. Grayson had been to Lewiston. Had had time to lift a book about demons getting their rocks off. Ethan squints at the ink of the page in front of him, the diagram showing a man in a position he's definitely never seen in any Kama Sutra book and one he's fairly certain wouldn't be possible without broken bones.

He mulls the thought over for a little bit. That Grayson had been in Lewiston - following Ethan, thinking about him. That Grayson, trying to understand why he was doing what he was doing, had thought this particular book might be significant.

It's difficult to continue reading the thing objectively after that. Ethan keeps on imagining the different flavors of agony shown in the pictures. Keeps on imagining Grayson and him and - shit. He tries to keep his eyes off the diagrams. Demons apparently seem to find blood just as much of a requirement during sex as jiz.

In the chair opposite, Grayson shifts a little, turns the page of the book he's reading, frowns at the words. It's so strange watching this Grayson reading.

"Something without a green cover," he says when he hands it back, finally (finally) done. "Fucking books."

He can barely look at his brother. Determinedly, he lets their fingers brush as Grayson hands him a new book, the contact brief but warm, the feel of it lingering long after he's back on the bed, book spread in front of him. He clenches and unclenches his hand in his lap, trying not to think about it.

"You're hungry," Grayson says, after a while, breaking the silence. "We should take a break."

Ethan looks at the clock on the wall, surprised at how much time had passed. He nods, happy enough to close the book. Reading about the implications of demon possession within a family, about how demons like to exploit love, tear it apart from the inside, but how, sometimes, the emotion can overwhelm them, allowing a strong host the chance to claw back some semblance of control, is a little too close to home. He doesn't think it's at all relevant for what's between him and Grayson now, anyway.

Ethan is looking for something more specific.

Grayson goes out and it's not long before he returns with sandwiches and still-warm pie. Ethan eats the pie first, savoring it, sucking the cherry tang off his fingers. His own slice of heaven and the expression on Grayson's face is something so similar to how his brother used to look whenever Ethan enjoyed his food too much that Ethan can't help playing it up until it's all gone.

"What? It's good, bro," he says, leaning back against the headboard.

Grayson stays silent, turning back to the books, hardly touching his own food. With a sigh, Ethan picks up his sandwich in one hand, his book in the other, and gets back to reading.

His eyes are raw and tired when he finally puts down the fourth book of the day, spine up, pages splayed open on the bedside table. Grayson's already in the bathroom and Ethan rolls off the bed, remembering to put the empty takeout carton balanced on Grayson's pillow in the trash. He can hear Grayson brushing his teeth over the sound of the tap running, the bathroom door standing open, the watery light shining through. It only takes a moment's indecision, then Ethan is stripping off his t-shirt for bed, steeling himself and walking into the bathroom, standing next to Grayson by the sink.

Grayson looks at him. Ethan takes up his toothbrush like a weapon. There's not really enough space for them both in front of the tiny sink, and he stands stiffly as Grayson's bare shoulder jostles against his, but doesn't move away.

He has to think through the motions: unscrew lid of toothpaste, toothpaste on toothbrush, toothbrush in mouth. Grayson is still watching him and Ethan fixes his eyes on the taps, stained pale with limescale.

"What are you doing?" Grayson asks.

"What does it look like?" Ethan mumbles around a mouthful, then leans forward to spit, bracing a hand on the counter. It puts his arm into full contact with Grayson's, forearm to bicep, and Grayson's other hand is suddenly tight around his wrist, gripping hard enough to hurt and stopping him from snatching his arm back.

Grayson's eyes are hot on his face when he jerks Ethan around to face him.

"What," he repeats, slowly, "are you doing?"

"Brushing my teeth, jeez. You got a problem with that?" Ethan tugs at his arm. "Get off me."

Grayson tilts his head slightly, really looks at him for a second, then smiles grimly and lets go. "Don't start anything you're not prepared to finish, E," he says, coldly, and leaves, going back into the main room.

Ethan turns back to the sink, finishes brushing his teeth, just going through the motions, not really thinking. By the time he's done, Grayson's turned all the lights off, and he has to grope through the darkness to the bed. Fumbling his jeans off, he slides beneath the covers, just lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling until it comes into focus, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.

Carefully, he turns onto his side and finds Grayson looking at him, his eyes open and glittering in the dark. They stare at each other in silence, the soft tick of the clock on the wall marking the time passing, second after second, then Ethan shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply, forcing himself to relax and let sleep take him.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
ACT III

That night, Ethan dreams.

He dreams of filming a video, the air tender and cool and crisp and salty. It is west coast air, much different than New England air which smells fresher, like baked apple pie and recently mowed lawns and it's gentler somehow, like laundry detergent and baby blankets.

And in the dream, Grayson is smiling at him, tender as the air, and he is good. He takes the camera from Ethan's fingers, laughs as he plays with the buttons, cuffs Ethan at the back of the head.

Ethan doesn't know if it's a memory or a want so deep in him that, like a wound, has bled into the body of his unconsciousness.

-

It can't be later than six when Ethan blinks hazily awake, the room still dark, the blinds drawn against the faint onset of morning. There's flickering light playing across the wall and he turns, the covers twisting around his waist, and stares at the television playing on mute on the other side of the room; smoke and blood and death on a loop.

There's a light on in the bathroom, the door cracked ajar and the sound of water running behind it. Ethan leans across Grayson's empty side of the bed to fumble for the remote on the bedside table. The sheets are still warm.

He presses the sound button and listens as the news reporter talks confusion, shock, the camera panning over fire fighters and police, ambulance crews waiting at the edge of the devastation, flames melting the tarmac and blocking their path. Experts are being brought in.

For a moment, it reminds him of the California fires from before, reminds him of that post Grayson got blasted for; he had mistaken the plumage of smoke for beautiful clouds. The internet had a field day, the Paul brothers especially.

But they're dead now, thinks Ethan. And before his thoughts drift too far in the other deep, dark direction, lost in that haziness of morning, he blinks, focusing on the bright screen once again.

The president is going to make a speech. There is utter destruction and no one can understand why the fires won't go out, why aerial footage shows that the nineteenth century church in the middle of the town hasn't been touched, surrounded by flames, perhaps a chance of survivors.

Untouched church.

Unnatural fire, Ethan thinks grimly. Hell fire.

Ethan listens until he's heard enough and then shuts it off, gets up.

Grayson is leaning against the sink in the bathroom, head clutched in his hands, face screwed up in pain, and - just for a moment - Ethan wants to go to him. The memories of visions and his brother suffering are something he'll never be able to scrub completely from his mind; constantly useless, so fucking helpless.

Because he remembers Grayson having these before they even moved to L. A., before Grayson gave himself over to the darkness lying dormant in his heart of hearts. In youth, they were only flashes. As kids, both of them were pretty wild but whenever something bad was about to happen-say, for instance, that one time that they met a bear in the woods and had to pedal away on their bikes-Grayson would get these weird headaches. He'd would tell Ethan that he saw a bear like it was right in front of him and not to venture that deep into the woods; Ethan insisted they did and whatever innate intuition Grayson had was right. There was a bear, it chased them, and they had pedaled for miles until, finally fed up much to Ethan's horror, Grayson hopped off his bike and screamed at the bear and, to his surprise, the beast seemed to be spooked, quickly lumbering off into the dark New Jersey wood once again. From then on, Ethan listened more to what his brother was saying, especially when he said he saw something in "his mind's eye."

As they got older, though, Grayson's visions got worse, more vivid, and more frequent. Ethan remembers one time when they used to have their warehouse and Grayson had fallen, just collapsed mid-sentence while he was on the diving ramp. Grayson had collapsed off into the pit of lush purple foam squares, some of them still stained with the candle wax they had used for their last video; he was convulsing, nose bleeding, and Ethan had panicked, pulling him up from the pit, and shook his shoulders. With his eyes rolling back in his head, Grayson convulsed once, twice, and in that time Ethan rolled him onto his side, screaming from panic, about to call 911, when Grayson's eyes shut tight, and he stopped, moaning low in his throat. Are you okay, Gray? Fuck, bro, are you okay? And Grayson moaned some more, shaky hand going up to his head, and opened his eyes. Grayson was crying. I saw... What? I saw...I saw a cancer diagnosis. Huh? I think, I think it was Dad's. And with tears welling up in his eyes, Grayson reached for him like a small child, clinging onto Ethan, arms wrapped so tightly around his midsection that it hurt, sobbing against his throat, and Ethan rubbed soothing circles onto his back, told him that everything was going to be okay, that it was mistake.

So, sometimes Grayson's visions didn't predict instances that were mere minutes away, sometimes they were years.

Now, Ethan leans against the doorjamb of the bathroom, folds his arms across his chest.

"Is this it?" he asks, flatly.

Grayson doesn't look at him, just puts his hands under the faucet, brings the water up to his eyes and scrubs a hand through his hair. He's fully dressed, ready to go.

Ethan feels nauseous. "Fuck, bro, answer me."

Finally, Grayson straightens. His eyes are bloodshot when he turns them on Ethan, his expression blank, tired.

"Get dressed," he says. "We're moving."

Ethan twists his lips into a grimace, goes back into the other room and doesn't do anything but sit on the bed and flick the TV back on, watching the film footage looping over, breaking news covered in real time, nothing changing, nothing to add.

Johnston, New Jersey.

A population of five and a half thousand: a possible five and a half thousand bodies. Logically, Ethan knows New Jersey is central, as good a place as any to start an infection, hell's poison seeping out through the state lines and blackening everything it touches.

It feels personal, though. A message. Starting where everything began in their home state. Ethan and Grayson were born in the Long Valley region of Washington Township, Morris County. Johnson is 50 miles outside the county but even though there's a distance, it sets Ethan's teeth on edge just thinking about going back to his home state, the risk of a family member seeing either one of them; they've been missing for so long. Missing, Ethan thinks. And what if Grayson really is that evil, decides to go after Lisa or Cam or...

Ethan blinks, setting his jaw, and focuses on thinking about the possibility of all those dead New Jerseyans, knowing that there is a good possibility that this is exactly what they want. The coven isn't dumb, that's for sure. And ruthlessness makes the fiber of their beings.

He's still sitting there staring at the screen when Grayson comes out and stops in the doorway, looking at him.

"Didn't you hear me?" Grayson asks, poisonously soft. "We're leaving."

Yeah, Ethan thinks, and doesn't move an inch. Because a shitty motel with china kittens and too much pink this place may be, but they're sitting right on the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and there's no way in hell Grayson was expecting this - the time, the place - or they'd have been in fucking Washington by now.

Grayson's expression is cold. "Fine. If that's the way you want to play it." The handcuffs shine in the light as he brings them out of his back pocket and steps forward.

Ethan levels his eyes at him. Gets to his feet.

"You're a coward, you know that?" he says, with all the bitterness he has. "What am I to you, huh? Your brother? 'Cos lemme tell you something. I had a brother once, and he was pretty brave."

Grayson stops. When it comes, his smile is not quite right: a little jagged, a little too knowing.

"You need to stop lying to yourself, Ethan. Or did you think that I didn't know what I was doing when they found me, when they became like another family? They didn't do anything. They just made me see my true potential. The potential was already in me. You'd really have to be kinda stupid not to realize there was only one way that was going to turn out."

Ethan looks at him, feeling a little sick. Grayson stares flatly back.

"I knew it and it didn't stop me." He shrugs. "Brave, no. Selfish, yes. But then you know all about being selfish, right, E?"

Grayson moves so fast that it barely even registers, his hands strong, his grip practiced. With a grunt of surprise, Ethan ends up with his face pressed into the mattress, and when he tries to throw an elbow back into Grayson's gut, instinct finally setting in, Grayson blocks all too easily, pins his arm behind his back. One cuff on, and Ethan fights like a wild thing, snarling and cursing and bucking upwards, but the disadvantage is all his, half-caught, no leverage, and it doesn't take long before Grayson's fingers close the cuff around his other wrist, securing him completely.

For a moment, this whole situation is too painful. It reminds Ethan of the video they filmed called "Twins Handcuffed For Twenty-Four Hours" and near the end, Grayson had playfully pulled his hands behind his back, his chin nestled against Ethan's shoulder as he squirmed, and handcuffed him. Even when he was teasing and it was for the video, he'd been tender, gentle.

This situation feels so hauntingly distant and somberly familiar that it makes Ethan's heart ache. 

Grayson leaves him panting on the mattress as he goes about the room, stuffing clothes into bags and putting the books into a pile, picking up his wallet and his car keys.

"Get up," he says, when he's done. Ethan stubbornly ignores him. Grayson blows out frustration and yanks him off the bed by the arms, almost dislocating Ethan's shoulders. He shoves him stumbling towards the door. "You're a pain in my ass sometimes, you know that, E?"

Outside, the wind is bitter enough to strip skin, the ground hard and icy. Ethan shrinks back inside, cursing.

"Hey," he says. "Come on, give me some pants and shoes, at least."

"I told you to get dressed," is all Grayson says before he barrels him forward out the door, into the morning air. Ethan shivers violently, his breath caught in his throat, and shifts desperately from foot to foot, trying to stop his toes from freezing on the pavement.

He doesn't want to make it easy for Grayson. He doesn't want to get in the car because he knows, he knows, that once they set off there will be no turning back. Grayson will drive and drive and drive until the world is overrun by hellspawn and his evil, fucked up coven and humanity is wiped out, only them left.

But shorts and handcuffs in freaking subzero temperatures are no fucking joke. Ethan stares hatefully at Grayson as he holds open the door of the Porsche and gestures him in. Grits his teeth and doesn't move.

Grayson quirks an eyebrow. "Fine," he says, and shuts the door, locking it, before moving back to the motel room, leaving Ethan stranded outside.

Grayson takes his time. Ethan's cowering against the Porsche, trying to get out of the wind, long before Grayson comes back out, the remaining duffel and the books in his hands. Ethan's teeth are rattling in his skull and it feels like ice is eating down into the marrow of his bones. Grayson just casually pops the sleek, baby blue trunk, tucking the stuff away, neat and orderly. Only then does he look at Ethan, his head tilted to one side.

"Cold enough yet?"

"Fuck you," Ethan says, contemplates spitting in his brother's face, but holds back the urge. He doesn't hesitate when Grayson opens the passenger side door again, just slides across onto the expensive seating and tries to get his shivering under control, his breath misting in the air in front of him.

Grayson goes to return the key, and when he comes back and starts the car up, he cranks the heater up, but doesn't say anything. Ethan faces the window and watches as the dark sky becomes grey, big-bellied black clouds on the horizon, looking like snow.

Later, he asks Grayson to turn the radio on. Grayson says no. When they stop at a garage to buy breakfast, there's a newspaper stand at the door, and Ethan can see the headlines from the car: MORE THAN 5000 FEARED DEAD. UNSTOPPABLE INFERNO CLAIMS TOWN. ALIEN BLAZE KILLS!

Grayson looks tired when he returns from paying, bruises under his eyes, his face drawn tight. He's not gentle when he tugs Ethan forward to snap one cuff off, only to drag his arm around and refasten them at his front. It makes it possible to eat, at least, and Ethan sits and chews slowly at his bagel, aware of Grayson in his peripheral vision.

His brother picks at his own food but doesn't eat much. Too soon, he puts the wrapper down and starts the engine again, pulling out of the lot, driving a little too fast, face grim, eyes fixed on the road.

Ethan watches the miles pass and tries not to think about how long it would take to get back to where they started, then into New Jersey, on to Johnston. The feeling that they might already be too late lies heavily in his gut, fucking helpless to do anything but sit there, waiting for the world to end. His mouth tastes sour like ashes and he wonders whether it's just his imagination that's making the grey sky grimy with yellow, shot-through like sulphur.

Suddenly, Grayson grimaces, rocks forward, hand going up to press against his temple. The car swerves violently, roadside gravel crunching under the wheels, and Ethan braces himself against the dash with both hands. "Pull over," he says, his heart racing. Grayson twists the wheel, turning them back onto the road and forcing a car going in the other direction onto the shoulder, the angry blare of a horn cutting through the air. "Grayson, pull over or you're gonna kill us!"

Grayson has got both his eyes squeezed shut, pressing against his skull like he wants out of it, and Ethan leans over and grips the wheel, steadies it. "Come on, get your foot off the gas, dumbass."

Something hits the underbelly of the car with a loud clunk as they get off the road and it's not the smoothest of stops but they're not moving anymore and that's what matters.

Ethan exhales slowly and lets go of the death grip he's got on the wheel, sitting back in his seat. Grayson is gritting his teeth, hunched over with his hands balled into fists at either side of his head.

"Visions?" Ethan asks, even though he knows the answer. "Yeah." He wonders how that works now. He wonders if he has visions about him, about their family members. He can't have visions about their friends now, though. They're all dead.

Or maybe this is from the others. A final call to arms or something. A farewell fuck you, man.

Grayson whines from somewhere deep inside, quiet and terrible, not quite choked off. Like an animal in pain. Ethan stares at him for a long moment, then awkwardly reaches out, puts his handcuffed hands on his brother's back, rubbing slowly.

"Hey," he says, and wishes more than anything that he could just not care for once in his life. "S'okay."

Grayson stiffens, then breathes, "God," and leans fully into him, almost crawling into his lap, pressing his head against Ethan's bare chest and clenching a hand painfully tight on Ethan's tattooed thigh, holding on.

The instinctive reaction is to buck him off. Ethan swallows hard and forces himself to stay still. After a minute, he twists a little so he can get his hands back, placing the circle of his arms around his brother's shoulders, his handcuffed hands resting at Grayson's elbow.

There are maybe thousands of people dead. Others still trapped, burning alive. There's a town on fire and a church still standing. Hell is creeping forwards, testing the boundary, and all Ethan can think about is right there in the car with him, his brother in his arms, the yellow sky outside.

"Man, Gray," he murmurs.

He thinks, maybe. Maybe there's a way. And he's got to try however crazy it is - for himself and for the whole world and for his brother.

His hands aren't quite steady as he moves them again, bringing them around, nudging at Grayson. "Hey," he says. "Hey, come on."

When he raises his head, Grayson looks more vulnerable than Ethan can remember him looking in a very long time, his face pale, his hair a sweaty mess. Their faces are already too close, and it doesn't take much. Carefully, Ethan presses their lips together and kisses Grayson on the mouth.

He feels the contact tremble through Grayson's body, a shocked moment of stillness, and then Grayson is kissing him back, gripping his shoulders to steady himself, pushing up into his mouth, a little desperate. Ethan sits and lets it happen, his own hands a tangled knot in his lap.

This is new, terrifying, and Ethan's never wondered before what his brother's mouth tastes like. He sinks a little in the seat and notices how Grayson's hands slip from his shoulders to under his armpits, gripping him, warm and precise; notices that Grayson's jaw is rough with stubble but his lips are as soft as a woman's, even if there's something behind them, something hard and fierce.

Grayson pulls back, eyes narrowed, a little hazy. Sure, Ethan thinks, it's cheating when he is still trembling from the aftershock of the visions, weak as a kitten, not quite in control, but he doesn't care. It's been a long time since he's considered himself a man of good moral standing. Right here and now, he needs all the advantage he can get.

Grayson laughs weakly, then, a little choked, a little mean. Rubs a thumb underneath Ethan's jaw, his nail catching roughly against skin. "You think this is gonna save me, E?" he asks, softly. "You think us fucking is the way to stop all this?" He leans closer, breathes into Ethan's ear. "You need to stop thinking so loud."

"Maybe you need to stop listening, asshole," Ethan says, and pushes forward again.

"God," Grayson murmurs, incoherent and sounding so much like the Grayson Ethan used to know. Ethan smiles grimly into the kiss, presses harder, tongue and teeth, and thinks, come on.

His hands are still cuffed and Grayson's a dead weight in his lap, but he manages to twist a little bit, get them both mostly on the seat. Grayson's jeans are a bitch to get into, and their owner isn't helping much, thrusting against him at an off-rhythm, the cuffs dragging painfully across Ethan's wrists.

"Stay still," Ethan grits out, finally popping the button open, getting a hand inside. As fucked as this whole thing is, Ethan looks him dead in the eyes, and Grayson is looking at him with so much raw lust that it throws him a little bit, but not enough to stop.

Ethan's still just in his boxers, and it's the work of an awkward moment to get the elastic down past his balls. He's not hard, not yet, and he has to let go of Grayson to wrap his hand around his own dick, jerking himself a couple times, almost brutal, his teeth clenched together. Gets himself half there.

"You're gonna have to -- Yeah," he groans, as Grayson shifts a little, gets their hips together, shockingly warm skin against skin. "That's it, Gray. Come on."

It's like being a teenager again, hot and nasty in the back of the car, jeans at mid-thigh and chafing like a bitch. Traffic roars by outside and Ethan can't bring himself to think about what would happen if they got caught, how Grayson would react, how everything would go to hell and all this would be for nothing. Grayson's thrusting against him, getting steadily more frantic, and Ethan's whole hand is going numb where he's got his fingers wrapped around them both, pressed together. The air between them is moist and warm, and Grayson's staring intently down at him, one hand braced on the door and the other on Ethan's face, his thumb pressed warm and sticky to his cheekbone.

"E," Grayson says, "Ah," and comes with shuttered eyes and teeth biting deep into his bottom lip, his arms quivering with strain. Then he flops down, heavy and unmoving, his heartbeat fluttering against the bare skin of Ethan's chest.

Without the friction, Ethan's hard-on wilts. After a moment, he shifts.

"Gray," he says, his voice a little rough, hoping, praying, because this is it. "We've got to go back."

Grayson raises his head and focuses on him. His eyes are clear.

"Okay," he says.

\---

The miles back to New Jersey stretch and warp in front of them. Ethan can't relax, nearly vibrating off the seat with energy. He's sitting jammed up close to Grayson, their thighs touching, and he doesn't know - doesn't have a fucking clue - how long this will last, how long Grayson will still be Grayson. So, he keeps touching him: better to be safe than sorry.

"You know," he says, and brushes his knuckles against the hand Grayson's got resting on the wheel. Somewhere in between tucking themselves back in and arguing about who was in a fitter state to drive, Grayson had taken the cuffs off, his fingers stroking lightly over Ethan's bruised wrists, apologetic. "You better have some idea about how to take your buddies out. Seeing as how I got us this far and everything."

Grayson cuts his eyes to him with a grimace. "What do you think the vision was about?"

"Huh," Ethan says, and drops his hand to rest against Grayson's knee. There's nothing natural about the gesture and he doesn't care if Grayson knows it.

Grayson checks the rear-view mirror, drums his fingers on the steering wheel, then says, frowning, "How did you know? That if me and you -- Was it in one of the books?"

Ethan checks the New Jersey map again, traces the route to Johnston with his eyes, though he's already got it memorized. He shrugs lopsidedly, a little uncomfortable. "Lucky guess. I figured there had to be something about having to kill familiars. And you - with the sleeping next to me and the shower and - you've always been fucking grabby at the best of times, Gray, but this was different. You got calmer, you know? And then, with all that happened..." he drifts off, "it got me thinking maybe it was all about touch. I think touch is important."

Maybe an intimate, romantic touch calms the evil within, makes you see something familiar, drags you back to humanity. It focuses you. Like blinders on a horse.

Only when they pass into New Jersey do they stop to pick up food. Ethan stays in the car and changes back into real clothes, stuffing the old, stained shorts down to the very bottom of the duffel. Then he sits in the driver's seat and refuses to budge when Grayson returns with bottles of coke and chips. Grayson huffs at him but doesn't argue too much, still looking too pale and tired.

They eat as they drive. When Grayson balls a sweatshirt up against the door and goes to put his head down, Ethan stops him.

"I think it might be better, Gray, if you - you know." He gestures.

Grayson rolls his eyes but shifts over and puts his head against Ethan's shoulder as he drives.

"I'm gonna drool on you, bro."

Ethan smiles softly and doesn't say a word.

\---

They see the smoke first; a vast column of it, stretching dark and noxious to the heavens, blown to a slant by the wind. Further along, ash begins to smear across the windshield, floating softly down around them like black snow, dirtying the ground. Ethan flicks the wipers on and puts his foot down a little harder.

Awake, Grayson is still and silent, staring out the window, a frown on his face.

Around the town, the roads are closed. Ethan glances at Grayson as they round a corner and the roadblock appears, two squad cars, a state trooper leaning against one of the hoods, looking small and unthreatening from a distance.

Grayson leans forward and gropes about in the glove compartment for his ID like it wouldn't be weird that he, a person technically considered missing, would use his real ID. Perhaps, Ethan thinks, Grayson has the ability to confuse, to make the card say something else. It's only then that Ethan realizes that's why no one had recognized them throughout all the states they've been through, all the people they've passed. Ethan and Grayson Dolan? The Dolan Twins? Who?

The thought unsettles Ethan but it's even more unsettling that Grayson isn't going all Rambo on the troopers.

"Why would I kill them?" is all he says in response to Ethan's look. Grayson hands him his ID but instead of saying Grayson Dolan, it tells a very different story. Ethan blinks, a tad nervous, and then licks his lips, presses the gas. Grayson hands him the badge.

They draw level and Ethan rolls down his window, all business. "Federal marshals," he says, flashing the badge. "There been any change we should know about?"

The guy has one of those funny little moustaches, a fuzzy ginger patch just above his top lip that looks stuck on. He tips his hat back to look at them, his eyes on the proffered ID for a moment, then shrugs. "Not that I've heard. You fellas probably know more than me anyway. Hell, I'd bet the press knows more about it than I do. I've said all along that the state of affairs in this country is mixed up, that if they ain't got their priorities set right then who can we trust, huh? All morning I've been listening for updates on the news radio myself and if that ain't crazy, I don't know what is. All I know is this goddamn road. They don't tell us anything. Just watch the goddamn road, Mike, is what they say. Just watch the goddamn road." He calls loudly, "Ain't that right, Stu?"

His partner nods and smiles a little blankly from the interior of one of the squad cars. Ethan doubts he has a clue as to what he's agreeing to.

"Well," Ethan says, and smiles wide, "you officers keep doing a first-rate job. Who knows what would happen if you let the wrong people in. We can't just have anyone walking in from off the street."

Mike puffs up a little. "Sure as hell we can't. Well, gentlemen, if you just give me a second, I'll get your way cleared."

"Thanks."

Ethan rolls up the Porsche window, watching as the guy turns and gestures emphatically to Stu, who starts the squad car up and reverses a little way, clearing enough room to let the baby blue sports car through. Ethan salutes the pair as they drive by. Grayson shakes his head.

"You're a jackass."

Ethan grins. "I know. I was just trying to sell the part."

Further down the road, they start passing parked ambulances and more police cars, the falling ash becoming thick enough to make driving impossible. Ethan pulls over by the side of the road and turns the ignition off. It leaves the inside of the car too quiet. Grayson is sitting tensed like a coiled spring, waiting, and Ethan imagines he can hear the ash falling, layering blanket upon blanket over the car, gradually shutting out the light.

"So," he says, after a moment. "How are we playing this?"

Grayson doesn't look at him. "It's too dangerous."

Ethan snarls. "Funny, that wasn't what I asked."

"Ethan -"

"No," Ethan says. "You expect me not to come, you're going to have to break out the handcuffs again, Gray. I'm serious."

Grayson turns fully round to him in his seat, his expression tight, angry. "What help do you think you're going to be in there, E? You don't have a gun, you don't even know how to use a gun properly, and it's not like that would do much damage anyway. That's hellfire. You know that? It's burning and there's no way you'd survive it. No one can."

"You can," Ethan says, steadily. "You were planning on keeping me safe through hell on earth, so don't tell me you can't manage to walk me through a little hellfire."

Grayson holds his gaze. "So what? You think I'll be able to do a damn thing if I'm holding your hand the entire time? Forget it, E, you just -"

"No. But I think you can get me to the church."

Grayson stops, his forehead creasing into a frown.

"Hallowed ground, Gray. They won't be able to touch me. You can. But you're not as far gone as them."

Grayson shakes his head. "So? If they can't get to you, then you can't get to them either. It's pointless. You'd still be safer out here."

"And what about you, huh? You really expect me to believe that you'd be safer - you, not what that thing made you - you think you'll be safe with me all the way out here? Because this -" he gestures "- whatever this thing is between us, you need me. You need to stay with it, stay focused, stay my brother, okay? If you come back and it's not you --" Ethan swallows back bile. "It's not gonna happen, alright? I'm not losing you again."

Grayson doesn't reply, just looks out the black-smeared windshield, his mouth pinched tight.

Finally, he says, "If I don't succeed - if I don't get out of there alive - you'll be stuck there, you know that, right?" It looks like the words are leaving a foul taste in his mouth, his face strangely screwed up. "You won't be able to manage the flames by yourself. You'll be stuck there."

Ethan shrugs. "If you don't win, it won't matter anyway," he says. He doesn't want to think about it: no Grayson, the coven fucking the world up so bad that they start the apocalypse. The Black Man laughing all the way....getting what he wanted after all this time. Somebody would rise up, take Grayson's place, and unlike his brother, they will be merciless.

Ethan knows: No Grayson, no world.

Ethan nudges Grayson on the shoulder. "So, you know. No pressure or anything."

\---

The flames must be forty-foot-high, a wall of pulsating fire rising high above their heads, and through the flickering wave of heat the scene doesn't look quite real, warping and stretching before them. Ethan and Grayson stand together, side by side, and watch it for a moment, not speaking. Nothing about the fire is natural, the flames not creeping forward but burning without fuel, eating into the pavement around the town as if drawn with a ruler.

To their right, firemen are working hoses. Police and Feds stand around watching, occasionally talking into radios, trying to coordinate something, anything. Ambulance crews are primed and ready, standing further back with their equipment, faces pale and strained in the flickering light.

No one notices them.

"So," Ethan says, and wipes the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "You ready?"

Grayson isn't sweating. The flames are reflected in his eyes, burning bright and unholy, and his jaw is set. The silver knife Ethan had once tried to kill him with is tucked loosely into his belt and his hands are relaxed and still at his sides. He looks deadly.

Ethan swallows.

"Gray?"

Grayson blinks, and it's like the flick of a switch: Grayson again.

"Yeah," he says, slowly. "Yeah, I'm ready." He looks at Ethan and nods. "Keep close to me, okay?"

They walk forward, and just as Ethan's wondering whether his eyebrows have been singed off in the heat, Grayson reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of his neck, his fingers cold against hot, damp skin. Ethan starts, not expecting it, and comes to a halt as a shiver passes through him; it feels glorious - the complete removal of heat, like his whole body has been wrapped in cool towels - and he stares across at Grayson, a little amazed. Grayson stares back, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, then gestures forward. Ethan goes, squinting against the brightness, carefully picking his feet up over the warped and buckled tarmac. He shuts his eyes and braces himself as they step into the roaring flames, only aware of the feel of Grayson's fingers on his skin, a cold spot at the nape of his neck, right above his 333 tattoo.

When he opens his eyes again, it's to a world coloured in orange and red and yellow, hazy and distorted with smoke and heat. There's nothing left of the town but the crunch of rubble under their feet and the hint of blackened foundations through the flames. Ethan had been telling himself from the very first that there was still hope; that there would be survivors, that some people would have gotten out. His eyes sting with smoke and he wants to cough, choke, but he's breathing just fine. Five and a half thousand people, and he doubts they'll even find any remains that haven't been incinerated beyond recognition.

Grayson squeezes his neck, nudging him forward a little, bringing Ethan sharply back to what matters. The rush of the fire pressing in around them is deafening, the lick of flames disorientating, and he lets Grayson direct him forward, concentrating on the slightest change of touch, the need for the smallest adjustment in direction. This is just the beginning if they don't succeed.

They walk and walk and if Ethan had ever allowed himself to imagine hell, this would be it. He thinks maybe they're on the old main street, but it's impossible to tell for sure. Sometimes they pass what might have been the burnt out shells of cars, metal twisted and warped; a blackened stump that was maybe a fire hydrant; the melted remains of traffic lights. His mouth is dry and his head pounding with the beat of the fire around them, his shirt soaked through with sweat that has nothing to do with the heat. Grayson's grip on his neck gets steadily tighter and tighter.

Finally, up ahead, something breaks the nightmarish monotony of the landscape. Ethan watches as they get closer, a dark shape rising above their heads, obscured by a thickening in the swirling fire. Grayson presses him forward, then through into complete silence, and it's like breaking out of water and only realizing then how much you need to breathe. Ethan puts a hand up - stop - and bends over, his hands clenched hard on his knees, steadying himself, his ears ringing. It takes a while to clamp down on the shaking in his limbs, and he waits, gathering control, before straightening and staring up at the old church, blinking purple and green dazzle from his watering eyes.

"God," he says, his voice strangely muted to his ears. The fire presses right up to the boundary of the small graveyard, no more than an arm's reach away, but under their feet and between the old gravestones the grass is still green and a little muddy.

"Yeah," Grayson says, and uncurls his fingers from Ethan's neck, letting his hand drop. Ethan can feel a slight warmth radiating from the wall of flame behind them, but that's it - the extent of the fire's claim. Around the church, it's still winter, still cold.

Grayson starts up the gravel path without looking back. "Come on," he says. "Inside is safest."

The church is a modest size, squatting squarely on its plot of consecrated ground, the inside plain but for the wood-carved pulpit and the stained glass window that silhouettes it with coloured light. Grayson looks around, restlessly fingering the knife at his waist, and nods.

"This is good," he says. "This is good." He turns and looks Ethan squarely in the face. "You'll sit in here and you will not move, do you understand me? You'll lock the door once I'm gone and you won't come out again until I come and get you. That is not open for interpretation, Ethan."

His face is a little too severe, his eyes a little too dark. Ethan nods his assent but doesn't look away.

"You're the boss," he says, evenly. "Just give me a sec to --"

He puts his hands on Grayson's face, pulls him forward to his lips. Grayson grunts a little in surprise, but meshes his fingers into Ethan's hair anyway, pulling him closer, kissing him back wholeheartedly, wet and hot. An arm snakes around Ethan's back, a hand pressed hard against his ass, and Grayson jerks against him, out of control, his breath catching raggedly in his throat.

Ethan pulls back to rest his forehead against Grayson's, a little breathless himself.

"I'll be here," he says, roughly. "I'll be here waiting for you until you come back. You remember that, alright, Gray? You come back to me or I'll kick your ass."

Grayson brings his hand up to Ethan's face, cups it, pressing his thumb to Ethan's cheekbone. His eyes are those familiar brown, wide and sincere. He nods, then takes a step back and pulls out the knife.

Time to go.

Ethan watches from the doorway as his brother walks back down the graveyard path and is swallowed up by the fire. Then he closes the heavy wooden door, lowers the latch, and leans back against the solid wood.

And waits.

\---

It starts as an itch in the back of his skull.

Having been three times around the small confines of the church, exploring every corner, and after pacing backwards and forwards for an hour or so, Ethan is doing just what Grayson told him to do: sitting.

He feels fucking useless.

Grayson should be back by now. Maybe he's hurt. Maybe without Ethan there he's gone dark side again, and maybe Ethan should never have agreed to this fucking stupid plan in the first place.

Ethan fidgets, thinking about going to stand outside. He's halfway out of the pew, already imagining fresh air and a cure for his restless boredom, imagining Grayson just on the boundary, collapsed, needing him, before something clicks into place and he sits heavily back down.

Inside is safest, Grayson had said, and Ethan knows there's no real reason for him to leave the church. He's aware he still wants to, though, the desire niggling at the back of his mind.

Grimly, Ethan unbuckles his belt and wraps it around one wrist, before awkwardly tying the stiff leather tight around the edge of the pew. He sits on his other hand and starts mentally going through the steps on how to edit a YouTube video: insert cord, download, wait, click the task pane, open the program software...

He begins to sweat and it's only when he notices his wrist is hurting like a bitch that he looks down and sees he's rubbed it raw by trying to tug himself out of his makeshift restraint. He grits his teeth, shuts his eyes and holds on. Tells himself to get a fucking grip. He can do this.

He can't.

Jerkily, he unties his bound wrist with his other hand and stands up, his belt falling unheeded to the floor. Cursing himself all the way, he struggles against every step forward, tries to sit down on the floor, tries to hold onto every row of pews - anything to stop the forward progress of his feet. Nothing works and the door feels strangely insubstantial in his hand as he pushes it outward, cold air rushing into his face.

Kyle is standing on the very boundary of the holy ground, wreathed by fire, a smile on his lips. He gestures - come here - and Ethan obeys.

"You can stop now," Kyle says, casually, when Ethan's close enough. His smile gets wider. "You might get burnt up otherwise."

Ethan can feel the strangely gentle warmth of the flames at this distance, and he stands still, glaring.

"Ethan, Ethan, Ethan. Long time no see, man! Apart from that thing in the forest that time but hey, water under the bridge, yeah? I mean, you wouldn't have any friends left if you took people trying to kill you personally, am I right?" Kyle laughs, and it's still a little out there, a little malicious, just like Ethan remembers.

Kyle Houck looks the same too. Sorta. The good-natured photographer, tattooed up, nose ring, kind of a rocker, very tall, with strong eyes and messy black hair, still a little babyish around the mouth. There's something off about him, though. Something mean in his eyes and not quite right about his smile, his skin a shade too pale even in the hot, flickering light, his air of innocence-if there ever was any at all- is gone. This was the man that had gotten Grayson to come downtown, had lied to him, told him his group of friends just liked to do a little street magic on the weekends, It's cool, bro. Just don't bring Ethan, kay? Why? Well, he's chill and all, don't get me wrong, bro. I just think this is something you'd be more into, ya know?

He's evil wrapped up in skin and bones, Ethan reminds himself.

I should've never let you step foot into our house.

"You know," Kyle continues - talking his mouth off, and that's certainly something that hasn't changed - "we're really pissed at you. Here you are fucking with our golden boy when he was playing along so nicely too. We're not gonna let you go anywhere else but hell, you know that, right? We're gonna drag you to hell, Ethan."

Ethan bares his teeth at him. "I heard those who want don't always get."

"Be quiet," Kyle says, offhandedly, and silence rams its way down Ethan's throat. "You're wrong. Without you around, Grayson's fair game, and we're going to make you watch as he tears the world apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left that doesn't belong to hell, doesn't belong to the Black Man. You'll hate your brother by the end of it. Wish you were an only child, wish they couldn't start his heart back up."

With nothing else left to him, Ethan just shakes his head.

"You don't think so? Well, I guess we'll know soon enough." Kyle tilts his head to one side and looks at him thoughtfully. "You burn up in hellfire and guess where it lands you?"

Ethan stares at him. Kyle smirks.

"Ding, ding, ding, that's right. Go straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. You believe in hell now, don't you, Ethan? You believe in evil and good, God and...and you know, don't you? It's all very real. If I didn't know better, I'd say the world knows now. Science doesn't answer everything, now does it? This has been fun, Ethan, really, it has. I'll come see you, maybe, when I get the time."

Kyle is a liar.

His expression doesn't change. "Now walk into the fire, Ethan."

Ethan starts moving forward, then, and his mind is throwing nothing but unthinking panic at him, flinching away from the thought of death, from the thought of leaving Grayson to these bastards and a fate worse than death and, fuck, this is it, his feet relentlessly moving under him, taking him closer and closer to the wall of pulsating fire and the unforgiving oblivion lurking just behind it.

But then Grayson steps out of the flames in front of him and Ethan's steps are slowing, faltering, but not stopping, and he's near enough to reach out and touch Grayson, near enough, almost, to walk into the fire's embrace.

To the side, Kyle laughs his nervous little laugh and nods at Grayson. "From this close, even you can't stop him from doing what I want."

Grayson doesn't answer him. The silver knife in his hand is black with blood and he reaches out with his other to grasp Ethan's neck, jerking him forward into the roaring blaze. Ethan hardly has time to acknowledge the strange coolness once more swamping his body, before they're standing in front of Kyle, a dark figure through the twisting flames, features hardly recognisable, distorted by the heat. Grayson wrenches forward and Ethan swears he feels the impact of the blade entering Kyle's gut: a wet slickness and a sick grind against bone.

Kyle just stands there, his mouth moving with words Ethan can't hear, a smug expression on his face. Grayson says something back and yanks out the blade, throws it away, then shoves his fingers into the wound.

Even through the bright lick of fire, Ethan can see Kyle is screaming.

\---

One down, four to go. Ethan thinks numbly.

They stumble out of the flames together on the other side. People are shouting to each other, clearing enough room to get more fire trucks in, the jets of water from the hoses finally making some sort of difference, dousing the blaze to the blackened ground. It's not difficult to make it to the Porsche unseen in all the commotion.

Without a word, Grayson takes the keys from Ethan and gets in at the driver's side. He hasn't said much the whole way back, virtually thrumming with tension, and Ethan warily gets in next to him. He wants to sidle closer on the seat, maybe crowd his leg right up to Grayson's equally tattooed one, but he doesn't. Like this, he's not quite sure how Grayson would react.

Resting on the steering wheel, the fingers of Grayson's right hand are stained with dried blood right down to the third knuckle. Ethan stares at them for a moment, then fixes his gaze out the windshield.

They stop only for the roadblock. Once through, Grayson puts his foot down on the gas and doesn't let up until they're out of New Jersey and well into Pennsylvania again, heading for nowhere. Running. Always running. It's dark by the time they have to pull over for gas, and Ethan gets out of the car as Grayson manages the gas handle.

Grayson stares at him. "What are you doing?"

"Just going in to get some water," Ethan says, giving a slightly crooked grin. "Man, I'm fucking parched. Guess that's what happens when you wander around in hellfire for too long, huh?" He's been thirsty since Johnston, his mouth so dry he doesn't think he'd be able to summon up enough moisture to spit.

Grayson doesn't smile back. "You'll stay in the car," he says.

Ethan blinks at him. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, but I --" He pauses. "You're serious?"

Grayson doesn't reply and it's answer enough. The look in his eyes dissuades Ethan from arguing. He gets back in the car and doesn't say a word when Grayson comes back from paying, even when Grayson puts two bottles of water in his lap.

They stop at a motel with a neon bright sign blinking vacancy and Ethan waits in the car as Grayson goes in to get a key: an all too familiar arrangement. Once in the room, Ethan doesn't even pause to pass judgement on the décor, just heads straight for the bathroom, kicking off his filthy sneakers as he goes. He stands under the shower's hot blast for a long time, letting the stresses of the day dissolve out of his muscles, getting the hellish smoke off his skin.

It's all the breathing room he allows himself and Ethan shuts the water off, listening to the drain gurgle as he rubs a towel over his head, wiping wetness out of his eyes and ears.

"It's all yours," he says, when he comes out, towel wrapped securely around his waist.

Grayson is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders hunched. He doesn't look quite there when he nods and stands up, brushing past Ethan and closing the bathroom door behind him. Ethan waits for the sounds of the shower to start up again before going to his duffel and rummaging around for pants and a t-shirt. Then he stops, his hands clenched into rough denim, and wonders what the hell the point is.

In just the towel, he sits at the head of the bed and tries to look casual about it.

Too soon, the shower stops. The lock clicks back and Grayson reappears, towelling water out of his hair, moisture flecks on his skin shining in the light. Ethan swallows and stands up, not quite sure what to do with his hands.

Grayson stares at him. "What?"

Ethan swallows. "I'd like to -- Can we -?"

Grayson's smile, when it comes, isn't particularly reassuring. "Sure," he says. "Lie back on the bed."

Ethan looks at him, holds his cold gaze for a second, then shrugs and lets the towel fall to the floor. He can do this - sure he can - he's Ethan Dolan and he can do anything. He concentrates hard on the girls he's made love to, fucked out and gasping, their panties around their ankles, on the floor, in his bedroom back in L.A.. He thinks of their breathy little moans, the hot, wet neediness between their legs, the soft give of their breasts and the creaminess of their thighs.

He doesn't think it makes much difference. Grayson is still looking at him like he can taste his fear, a smile playing across his features, and Ethan grits his teeth and gets awkwardly onto the bed, ignoring the dull thump of his heart in his ears. He lies in the middle of the scratchy covers, head propped up on the pillow, and quirks an expectant eyebrow at Grayson: what the hell are you waiting for?

Grayson just continues to dry his hair, taking his sweet time over it, apparently not bothered in the slightest. He doesn't even look at him.

Fuck you, Ethan thinks. Fuck you. He knows Grayson is in there, that his brother has just pushed himself too far once more, back over that edge of blood and violence. That's all this is, Ethan knows, and he can lie here all fucking night.

He doesn't have to. Finally, Grayson turns his full attention on him, and the hand doing the towelling slows as his eyes drag up Ethan's body, before stopping completely. Grayson drops the towel and climbs onto the bed, the mattress shifting beneath him as he crawls further up. He doesn't touch Ethan, but puts his hands either side of his head, leaning his face in so close Ethan can smell the soap on his body.

"I know what you're trying to do," he says, softly. His breath is hot against Ethan's skin, a counterpoint to the chill of the motel room.

"Yeah?"

Grayson smiles, a little twisted. "I can feel your fear. You don't want to do this." He moves then, dips his mouth down to Ethan's neck, nuzzling. "How does it feel to know that we're never gonna be able to split up, hmm? You and me, E. You and I."

Ethan doesn't answer, just puts his fingers in Grayson's hair and pulls him up to his mouth, kissing him vehemently into silence. Grayson surges into it and gives as good as he gets, bracketing Ethan's face with his hands and tilting his chin up, a thumb at the corner of his mouth opening Ethan's lips wider, pulling him deeper with tongue and teeth and lips.

Later, Ethan pushes back and grunts into the mattress, a little desperate, and says, "I'll get over it." He's got three of Grayson's fingers deep inside him, slowly stretching him apart at the edges, Grayson's hand pulling tight around his dick. Grayson doesn't reply - maybe doesn't even hear him - letting go of Ethan's member and spreading his hand at the small of his back, warm and slick with sweat, reassuringly gentle.

Ethan looks back at him; Grayson's eyes are shining, completely lost to it, and Ethan knows right then that he means it. Grayson shifts over him and Ethan shuts his eyes, trusts, and just holds on.

-

Afterwards, Grayson cries.

He cries for Ryan and Kristina, for everyone else.

Violent, gut-wrenching sobs that shudder through his whole body, his face crumpled and blotchy, entirely unselfconscious in his despair. Ethan moves to put a hand on his shoulder and Grayson flinches away as if burnt, not looking at him, choking down on his grief.

Ethan snags his still damp towel from the floor and stands up, wrapping it tightly around himself. He gives Grayson some space, moving into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Through the thin wood, he can still hear him, the sound of misery pounding through his head, and when Ethan turns on the shower and stands under the lukewarm blast again, the noise doesn't fade in the slightest, echoing hollowly in his ears.

Maybe, Ethan thinks, someday soon, Grayson will listen to him. They'll talk and maybe Grayson will be able to hear saving the world instead of just murder. Will hear I wanted to do it rather than just rape. Maybe, one day, they'll be able to touch each other, look at each other, without remembering. Ethan presses his forehead against the cool tiles and just leans there, blinking the water out of his eyes.

None of it is going to be easy.

It's the price they both have to pay.


	28. The Green Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: As time goes on, Grayson grows exceedingly jealous of Kristina and Ethan’s relationship. Ethan assumes it’s because Grayson feels like he’s the third wheel and is envious of the fact that he’s got a girl. In reality, Grayson doesn’t want a girlfriend; he wants Ethan.

28\. 

The Green-Eyed Monster

-

"O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;  
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on."  
― William Shakespeare, Othello 

-

Part 1

-

Ethan and Grayson, 20 

Summary: As time goes on, Grayson grows exceedingly jealous of Kristina and Ethan's relationship. Ethan assumes it's because Grayson feels like he's the third wheel and is envious of the fact that he's got a girl. In reality, Grayson doesn't want a girlfriend; he wants Ethan.

-

Grayson knows it's wrong.

He's standing in front of his bedroom mirror, his toes curling against the dark mahogany wood. He's stark naked, the still damp towel pooled like snow at his feet.

The cool breeze of the air conditioner licks softly at his skin and goosebumps rise from the soft, damp flesh of his muscular biceps.

He looks at the lines of his body, traces the tattoos on his legs; his arms are loose at his sides. He stares at his well-defined hipbones, the way the muscles cut, forming an indisputable V. His eyes raise up to the dark hair forming near his privates, leading a trail to his manhood. He looks further, eyes moving to his own face.

He can hear Kristina in the next room, her voice trinkling through the thick walls like bells.

"Ethan, stop it." She says in a laugh, her Australian accent unquestionable. It's so bright and happy and annoying.

Grayson can picture it now:

Ethan's full lips trailing across her neck teasingly as they lie in bed together, facing each other. He's got one hand wrapped securely around her waist. The other, softly against her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her defined jawline.

Grayson wets his bottom lip, and the man in the mirror does the same. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks mean. He looks angry. Grayson attempts a smile, forcing the muscles in his mouth to move upward, to display teeth, and the reflection smiles too; but the smile seems a bit dull. It's faker than a Ken doll.

Grayson's smile falters and the Ken doll is replaced by a snarl. The man in the mirror looks like a savage, feral animal. Blinking, Grayson relaxes the muscles of his mouth, finding the expression all too familiar but, at the same time, frightfully strange.

He runs a hand through his hair and rubs at the back of his neck and the man in the mirror does too.

"Oh," there's a gasp through the wall, a single syllable, and Grayson feels his heart hammer harder in his chest. Grayson flexes his bicep and reaches out to feel the skin of his forearm, to feel the pulse underneath the skin. Thump, thump, thump. It tells him he's alive.

He swallows thickly as he hears a distinct, throaty, "Mmm, baby," that can only be Ethan's. There is that odd sensation in the pit of Grayson's stomach again. It's a good feeling. It feels like drinking something warm, except drinking something warm never twists into you. It doesn't twist into you so deep you want to whimper.

Hands balled into fists so tight the skin has turned a stark white, Grayson yanks the towel up from the floor and makes his way over to his dresser to change.

-

The video titles set Grayson's teeth on edge. He knows they're clickbait, meant to garner views and therefore ad revenue. Shouldn't Grayson be grateful? After all, they'd lost so many subscribers since the whole Ryan incident. And even before then, Grayson had felt like they're brand was faltering, their content becoming strained and unfocused.

Grayson's jaw clenches as he pulls himself up once more, the sweat trickling down his smooth, bare back as the afternoon sun beats down.

My girlfriend won't let me do this again...

My girlfriend and me get matching tattoos

My girlfriend said what?!

My girlfriend PRANKED me

He pulls himself up and over the bar, his chin just grazing the metal. His deep grunts mix fluidly with the ciphony of construction noises in the background. And yet, he can't hear himself. He's blasting Kid Cudi. But it isn't Kid Cudi's voice that he's hearing. It's his own.

Well, isn't this the fucking Ethan and Kristina show now?

His arms feel hot, too hot, like the tendons have been stripped bare and packed with salt. And yet, Grayson finds a joy in the repetitive motion. It makes him feel powerful.

It distracts him.

More importantly, if he works out often enough, if he pulls his body up and down, strains his arms hard enough, it exhausts him. It drains him enough not to do anything stupid, to not let the simmering sensation in his chest get the better of him.

Grayson licks the sweat from his top lip as he pulls himself over the bar again, grunting, the sound drowned out by the music in his ears, the dark, vicious thoughts bouncing around in his brain.

Grayson doesn't know how long he has been going but his arms feel numb and his nape and back feel like they're on fire.

He has decided; he will keep going until nightfall, ignoring their blond-haired assistant's gentle words, gentle motions, as though Grayson isn't lost in his own world right now, even if his eyes are open. He'll change it up in an hour, get on the ground, do a rep of curls, feel the tight heat in his overworked abs, let the salty sweat burn down his face, drip further into his blood shot eyes, and lick tentatively at his parched, dried lips.

The assistant comes out once, twice, her mouth moving, her small, dark hands waving, her expression a tad bit worried; she's probably telling him to get a drink of water, that something or another needs to get done before she heads inside again, before she leaves for the afternoon for her own home, her own warm bed.

Ethan isn't home. He hasn't been home since noon.

Although it might seem callous, Grayson closes his eyes and continues to do his pull ups, his bent knees lowering themselves in suspense once more. He jerks up once again.

Eventually, she leaves and doesn't come back again.

With the numbness in his arms and the sheer heat at his back, Grayson contemplates the comment section of their recent YouTube video. Of course, like so many before it, the vlog concentrated on Ethan and Kristina's end-all-be-all love.

Holy fuck. Why wonder Grayson doesn't have a girlfriend. He really needs to get some help with his anger probs. Like, I feel he'd be one of those guys to beat up his wife. Aren't there people he can go see in L.A. like a psychotherapist or something? Shit.

166 likes

Grayson needs to take an anger management class. I think either that or he's on 'roids. It's not normal to get that upset that your bro is hanging out with his gf. And god u know those muscles aren't natural. Did you know steroids shrinks ur ball size? He isn't fooling anyone.

29 likes

I think Grayson is really dealing with some co-dependency issues. I'm friends with a set of twins and they don't act the way Grayson acts with Ethan. It's weird. Getting girlfriends is a normal, healthy step in life. They can't be around each other forever. They have to grow up sometime. I feel like Ethan gets it but Gray is so far behind. It's kind of sad. I love Gray sm.

17 likes

Grayson feels a heat in his face that makes him think of the saying "red as a tomato."

At least I have this, Grayson ponders as his eyes snap open, his teeth bared into a snarl, his eyes squinting in the hot California sun. Like some old time, masochistic martyr, he lifts himself up again, his formidable biceps straining ruthlessly, the music pulsing against his ear drum.

At least I have this...

He closes his eyes again, breathes, and tries not to contemplate what strangers over the internet think of him.

It's not five minutes later that he feels something bounce gently against his sweaty, bare stomach. It feels round and kind of fuzzy.

His eyes snap open and he looks down, a tennis ball rolling around in a lazy circle below his dangling legs. He pulls out his earphones and settles down to the ground, his arms on fire, shoving the earphones into his short pocket, ignoring the familiar eyes on him, the sound of breathing.

"Hey, how long have you been out here, bro?"

Grayson looks up to find Ethan standing a few feet away, sweat stains under his arms and on a large gray blot on his chest. He had gone out to play Tennis with Kristina. By the looks of his flushed faced and the tennis racket, broken and dented at the top right-hand corner, Kristina must've given him her all and Ethan had decided to go Serena Williams on the poor racket.

For a second, Grayson doesn't say anything. But he knows giving his brother the silent treatment doesn't work. Ethan simply doesn't care anymore.

All you care about is Kristina now so why should I care about you? Grayson thinks, bitterly, but he knows that he couldn't stop caring about Ethan even if his life depended on it.

That truth hurts because of how genuine it is, how authentic. Even if Ethan spat in his face, pushed him, broke every contract, told him he'd never want to see him again, Grayson would still come scrambling back, clawing at the door, hands grasping wildly for Ethan, his heart on his sleeve.

Even if his life dependent on it, Grayson could never let go of his brother.

It's scary, but it's true.

"Why you wondering?" Comes Grayson's reply, and there's an edge of heat to his voice that is nearly masked by his rather crude expression.

Ethan doesn't notice it, thinks he's teasing.

"Well, you look like you're gonna fucking pass out, bro. No cap."

Grayson licks his dry lips.

"I have been here for a while."

Ethan snorts, "That's specific."

"Yeah, well."

"You look like you pissed yourself."

"It's sweat, bro."

"That much? What are you, The Rock?"

"Shut up."

"Yeah, you're right. He's much beefier."

"Whatever, E."

"How long have you been out here?" Ethan repeats, an edge of cool, nonchalant worriedness to his expression. Grayson knows it well. It's I'm-totally-worried-about-you-but-toxic-masculinity-says-I-can't-show-it. It's unspoken.

"Why you wondering?" Grayson repeats. "You couldn't beat me if you tried."

As if for emphasis, Grayson pulls up once again.

"Don't think you're hot shit."

"I'm stronger than you."

"Yeah, well, at least I've got a girl."

And whatever banter they were getting at, Grayson feels like pushing Ethan to the ground. 'Cause it isn't cute when Ethan brings up Kristina in nearly every conversation. It's already bad that she's living with them, letting Ethan press kisses to her throat, letting him hold her hand.

Instead, Grayson hops down and pushes past Ethan, careful not to touch him.

"Come on, bro! Fuck, quit being so sensitive!"

Sensitive.

Grayson hates that word. If he had the power, he'd obliterate it. Because Grayson doesn't see himself as sensitive. Not really. He had wrapped himself in an invisible armor the moment he agreed to let Kristina come live with them. He had done it for Ethan. He had done it to make him happy.

And what if that armor is deteriorating? Isn't it only natural? Or, perhaps in Grayson's case, unnatural?

How does that make him sensitive?

Grayson doesn't look back behind him; he makes his way inside, not even registering how cold the inside of the house is and slams the glass door shut.

"Are you alright?" Kristina asks, worried. She is sitting on the couch, her normally cheerful expression changed, a bit alarmed. She has been relaxing and cooling down, scrolling through her social media. She's been messaging Larray. He'd sent her a meme of a cat in a fedora.

Once they had gotten home from the tennis match it wasn't a minute that went by that Ethan hadn't made his way out the back door in search of Grayson. It was like he knew where his brother would be. Kristina wasn't surprised.

It seemed that Grayson had been particularly allusive this past week, breaking away from working out or hiding in his room only to film the podcast video and the vlogs.

Kristina frowned as she watched Grayson make his way into the kitchen, ignoring her. His body was soaked in a layer of sweat and his hair too. His face was flushed and even from the living room, she could see the raw blisters on his hands. Yanking it open, he grabbed one of the plastic cups down from the cabinet and slammed it down on the counter with enough force to make her jump.

These were the moments that Kristina worried about her boyfriend's twin brother.

Although she would never say it, she wondered if someday Ethan was going to say the wrong thing and Grayson would snap and really hurt him, and Ethan wouldn't be able to defend himself.

Now, watching Grayson, she silently wonders if Ethan will be like that plastic cup someday.

Grayson has never targeted his aggression towards her, not directly, at least, and not in the physical sense, but Grayson has taken to yelling erratically at their management team, even Ryan and that kind-hearted assistant. He'd yell at Ethan, too, but it felt different; he didn't get violent with him as much as he used to. Grayson would just leave when Ethan started getting on his nerves; it was like he'd rather direct his anger towards working out or beating the shit out of his boxing dummy in the workout room of the home, his grunts filtering through the whole house. And being mean.

That's it, she thinks, you're a whole hell of a lot meaner than when I first met you.

She watches her boyfriend's twin brother yank the door open to the refrigerator and pour the bottle of cold water into the cup. The plastic crunches in his hands as he balls his hand up. He throws it into the wastebasket.

When he turns around, his face is softer. Kristina blinks. Ethan is making his way to the door. She can see his shadow against the wall, reflected in the glass.

Grayson swallows, "I'm fine."

And he's gone, cup in hand, stomping his way down the hallway and down to his room, softly shutting the door behind him.

-

Grayson does not hate Kristina.

Grayson does not hate women.

Grayson does not believe in violence against people Ethan loves, especially women.

But Grayson knows that how wrong and depraved as it may sound, if Kristina was Kristian, and Ethan's lascivious Australian female lover had been a man, Grayson would've beaten the shit out of him the moment he pressed his lips against Ethan's.

\----

Part 2

Grayson contemplates the dream he had last night.

In his dream, Grayson was at his bathroom sink attempting to put in contacts.

He doesn't need contacts in the real world. He has 20/20 vision.

But in his dream, he couldn't tell the right lens from the left. He struggled for what felt like hours, putting one blurry contact in and pulling it out again. No matter which one, left eye or right eye, he could never get it right.

Then he woke up.

He quietly sips his water on the bed, staring across the way at the mirror, his bare feet curling against the floor.

The man in the mirror sips too, drinking down the water slowly, carefully. Grayson sneers. He does too. Finding the man too unbearable to look at, he rises from the bed to turn to face the other way and pauses, lets out a deep moan when the sensation hits deep in his shoulders, his belly, his biceps, his hands, his wrists.

It's a deep ache.

Grayson seems to only feel this deep ache when he's paying attention, when the exercises are over.

How long had it been? Grayson tries to remember when he first ventured outside. Was it 10:00? Or was it before...maybe 8:30 or so? Whenever it had been, it had been awhile ago, as it is 4:30 now.

Grayson's stomach growls lowly as if on cue as he touches his sunburnt skin, pressing the side of the cup to his flesh, slick with condensation, for some sort of relief.

Grayson revels in the soreness in his shoulders and biceps. It's a bottomless throb that, add to it the bright red sunburns marring the tops of his shoulders and the raw skin of his hands, Grayson pays particular attention to. The pain, he thinks, is a good feeling. In the midst of anger, the soreness is something to latch on to.

It's like purging. You get to throw up all the bad stuff. It's a physical change. No more bad stuff, no more bad feelings.

Plus, it's better to focus on that than the hot, simmering rage burning deep in his chest, threatening to erupt at any moment.

It has erupted in many ways already, after all.

Before Kristina came to live with them, it happened with Ryan.

Grayson remembers the mad scramble. The internet remembers the mad scramble too. It wasn't that Grayson wanted a girlfriend; he wanted a distraction. He wanted lips and hands and smiles and the pain to go away, to not, for once, think about Ethan's hand grabbing his waist as they wrestled, to not think about Ethan's disgusting, lovesick eyes, how he wouldn't shut up about how much he loved Kristina, how someday she was going to have his babies.

He hadn't meant to hurt Ryan, especially when he knew his friend was dealing with some severe mental illness himself. It wasn't about the girl, either. His possessiveness was misplaced, distorted.

Ethan, of course, along with the rest of the festering cesspool that is the internet, assumed that Grayson was envious that Ethan had something Grayson did not: love.

But can't they see, Grayson thinks darkly to himself as he picks at the skin on his shoulder, peeling back an old layer, hissing between clenched teeth at the sting, that I already have that?

He flicks the skin into the wastebasket, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Or did, he silently corrects himself. Or want to.

And there had been so many girls within the month that if Grayson was a girl himself, he'd quickly be labeled a whore or a slut. He had lied in the podcast. Sometimes it frightens Grayson how well he can lie. He had said that he had fallen in love with every girl. In truth, he had fallen in love with none of them.

Because none of them were Ethan.

There's a sharp knock at the door. Then, a jiggle of the knob.

"Gray, open up. Why the fuck did you lock the door, bro?"

"Go away, E."

"No, open up."

Silence.

"I'm sorry about yankin' your shit and everything. I mean, you'll get a girl. I didn't mean to be a dick."

Silence.

"If you open up, I'll give you a back rub. Uh? Is that a fair deal?"

"Shut the fuck up. You aren't funny."

"Yeah, I am."

"No, you're not. Not at all," Grayson lets out a dry laugh. "No cap, bro."

"Well, I'm going to order post mate unless, you know, if you wanted to make dinner?"

Ethan's tone is venturing, the kind of tone he uses when he wants Grayson to do something for him, but he wants to pretend he doesn't give a shit if he does it or not.

To say it's grating is an understatement.

A few short feet from the door, Grayson's eyes dance over the wood, his hands suddenly tightening, his heart thudding in his chest. Ethan can't be serious right now. He...make dinner? Like that's all he's good for. Like he's some sort of maid or servant or something.

Servant: Grayson Dolan

Occupation: Cook to King Ethan and Queen Kristina

"Fuck you."

Now it's Ethan's turn to pause. Grayson's voice is practically a snarl. It's only a second, though, and Ethan's on the fence again.

"Fuck yourself, bro. You don't have to. I was just asking, Gray. I'm going to start up the grill." Ethan says but doesn't leave; he's waiting for Grayson to bust down the door and push him down and try to wrestle him into submission, Ethan grabbing any part of Grayson's body-legal in wrestling or not-to get the guy off him, calling him every foul name in the book, maybe even biting the skin closest to his mouth if he doesn't let up.

Usually, that's what Grayson does. He loves to roughhouse. Ever since they were kids, rough and tumble play was his favorite, never mind that they're twenty years old and Grayson had pulled that stunt not three weeks ago.

Except, Grayson doesn't throw open the door and tackle him.

He doesn't start yelling like a silver back gorilla, red face and enraged, his eyes bulged out of their sockets, practically reeking of testosterone.

There's just this silence that Ethan doesn't really like, although he doesn't focus on it too much because Kristina calls his name from the living room.

"I'm gonna make vegan burgers." Ethan trails off at the door.

The door, of course, does not respond.

-

Although he has just showered this morning, Grayson showers again.

He loves the burn of the hot water sliding down his back, across his sore, overworked muscles, the way the walls of the shower feel as comfortable and as dark as a hug.

When he steps outside again an hour later, the smoke billowing through the air, Grayson knows three things:

1\. The reason the food is not done is because Ethan has burned the first batch of burgers.

2\. Ethan and Kristina are in their matching robes again

3\. Ethan is filming for the vlog

There's something so sickly automatic about the smile that flashes on Grayson's face when he notices the camera. It's so automatic that he starts, faltering, and he tears his eyes away from Kristina's silly dancing by the table.

He's so used to pretending to be happy.

Here are the steps to look happy in a YouTube video: Smile, but don't smile too much that it turns into a sneer. Square your shoulders back so that you exude an air of confidence, but not too back because then you'll look like an arrogant dick. Talk, but don't talk too much. After all, you have to give other people room for their opinions. Sound smart, but not too smart. Remember, you aren't better than anyone else.

Grayson's fingers play with the rubber of the sliding door and although it's relatively new, it's a little worn around the edges.

Grayson glances back to Ethan and Kristina. Ethan is laughing, flipping the freshly unpacked veggie burgers on the already charred grill, holding the camera to the fire and then back to Kristina as she says something; her soft, delicate Australian accent penetrates the warm, fresh late afternoon air.

Grayson wants to melt into the wall.

Either of them have noticed him yet and he tries on that Ken-doll smile again, watching the way Kristina lunges playfully, wrapping her arms around Ethan from the back and pulling him tight, snuggling her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes tightly, the most content expression crossing her face.

"Woah, babe," he can hear Ethan say. "You're gonna make me burn another burger if you squeeze me too tight. Oh. You're gonna squeeze a fart outta me."

"Ew," she laughs, blinking her eyes open, crinkling her nose.

"Well, you are, babe." Ethan retorts, trying to angle the camera to catch her face. It's awkward: Ethan's got one spatula in his hand, the other on the camera, Kristina holding onto his back like a baby koala bear.

Grayson's smile goes down and he tries to again, realizing that it's so awkward to film because he's usually the one filming them. He smiles, bares his teeth to the sun, and it's no mistaking that it looks like a snarl.

How can he exude happiness? Grayson swallows thickly, knowing that if their editor suggests they add this little part to the vlog, he's probably going to want as little footage of Grayson in it if he's wearing this expression.

Fans have caught on a bit, noticed how aggressive Grayson has gotten, and Grayson knows more as a businessperson than a human being that it's bad for their image.

But how is he supposed to ooze happiness when the pain deep in his chest makes him feel like the outside is not free, that he's trapped in some kind of hellish prison, all the walls closing in on him? How is he suppose to exude happiness when all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Ethan, bury his forehead against his shoulder, breathe in the cotton, the vanilla, the smoke, and the fabric softener?

"Hey, bro!" Comes Ethan's voice and Grayson blinks.

And Ethan's pointing the camera towards him.

For a second, Grayson's mind goes two ways, juggling between two emotions, like a pin ball ricocheting back and forth in some hoary arcade game. He contemplates shoving the mask on or leaving it off. In a moment, he settles on one.

He does not smile.

-

We're the three amigos, Grayson thinks dryly.

After thirty minutes of sitting there filming Kristina and Ethan as Ethan (attempts) to grill out and Kristina smooths a pure white tablecloth on the table and dishes out the paper plates and plastic utensils, Ethan serves up the burgers onto the buns and crams the fries on the sides. Grayson turns off the camera to eat. He makes a joke about giving Grayson more since he tends to get hangier easier, and Grayson doesn't say a single word because no matter what he'd say, he knows that Ethan doesn't care how any of this is affecting him.

As far as Ethan knows, Grayson is being the irrationally testosterone driven, jealous, co-dependent twin that can't stand the fact that Ethan has a girlfriend, and he doesn't.

The part about being testosterone driven is true. It doesn't help with his anger but he's only a man. The comments on their recent YouTube video are true too: he is co-dependent.

Watching Ethan, the way that the sunlight dances across the side of his face, the face he's known all his life, causes a flash of anger and a deep, dark shame flare up in Grayson and he doesn't want to think of jealousy or co-dependency anymore, especially when Ethan's eyes turn back to Kristina like she is his whole world.

Grayson stabs at his vegan burger with a fork as Ethan continues to talk with his mouth half full. Of course, Kristina isn't batting an eye. She's all smiles, all bright white teeth and crinkled, large brown eyes, and Grayson thinks that even if some of the comments are right on their videos-if Kristina really is a gold digger that just wants Ethan's money-there's something so delicately sweet about her that Grayson can't help but understand why Ethan loves her so much. With realization flooding his facial features, Grayson understands that the reason his brother fell in love with her is because Kristina is nothing like himself. She's mentally stable, kind, cheerful, and soft-spoken. Grayson's life is shrouded in internal loathing and paranoia. He's fucked up in the head. He knows, deep down, that he's fucked up in ways that Ethan can never know about.

Grayson stares across the way at Kristina, watches how she nods to something Ethan is saying, holding onto every word like they're precious stones.

In Kristina's mind, Grayson imagines, the world is full of stuffed koala bears and candy-coated kangaroos. It's perfect where she lives. When she glances over at him from the corner of her eye, Grayson drops his gaze.

Kristina frowns and watches her boyfriend's brother stare down at his food, noticing the way Grayson is gripping the fork like a weapon.

Staring at the dry bun, he contemplates what it would be like to start eating meat again, just to spite Ethan. He stabs it a couple more times. Stab, stab.

"Hey, bro, pass the ketchup."

Ethan's voice breaks him out of his spell. Grayson contemplates tossing the glass bottle at his face but, just as the urge comes, it's gone.

Instead, through teeth so tightly clenched his jaw aches, Grayson picks up the bottle and Ethan's looking at Kristina. He lets the bottle go right when it brushes his brother's fingers.

It shatters on impact.

No, Grayson thinks. I'm the one who wanted to be vegan in the first place.

The ketchup splatters onto the plates, thick droplets splashing onto Ethan and Kristina's clean robes. Shards of glass get lodged into nearly everything.

Ethan's startled expression quickly turns into a glare as he shoots daggers at Grayson.

"What the fuck, Gray? What did you do that for?"

For one sick, depraved moment, Grayson seriously considers becoming ex-vegan, just to eat raw meat, to have blood streaking down his chin.

Would I look like a monster? He contemplates. He prods the thought like a wound, testing it, teasing it, enjoying the thought a little too much.

Then, remembering not only the promise he made on social media but how much he loves baby pigs and infant cows, he feels nauseous and guilty for even thinking about it.

"Hey, what the fuck, bro? Are you even listening to me?" And Ethan is snapping his fingers in front of his face like he's a dog.

Grayson blinks, eyes flickering to Kristina's startled, confused face as her eyes flicker to Ethan's enraged expression to his brother's eerily distant look that is quickly being reeled into focus.

"Don't snap your fingers at me." Grayson says lowly. A shiver races up Kristina's back. Grayson's tone could freeze hell.

"Why did you drop the ketchup?!"

"Get your hand out of my face."

"Huh? Why? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?!" Grayson snaps and jerks up, taking part of the table with him, having gotten caught on his thigh. It jerks the whole frame up and Kristina lets out a small yelp.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, E?!" Grayson yells, his eyes wide and wild, his face already turning a stark red, and Kristina thinks she should be used to Grayson acting like this, but it's usually with other people. She's noticed that, as of late, he usually storms off if his brother gets under his skin, but not now. If looks could kill, Ethan would be long dead.

"Uh, what, bro?!" Ethan snaps back, getting up, pressing his hands against the table, even if it's drenched in ketchup. If any bits of glass are lodged within the ketchup, Ethan doesn't show that it's pierced his skin.

"There's nothing fucking wrong with me! But there's something real wrong with you, Gray!"

"No, there isn't."

"Uh, yeah, there is. Why can't you just fucking admit that it's okay that I love Kristina? Huh? There's nothing wrong with me having a girlfriend, 'kay?"

"Shut up, E."

"Just 'cause you can't get a girl doesn't mean you should shit on my parade. Fuck you, bro."

"Fuck me? Fuck you, E!"

"Why, huh? 'Cause you can't stay with anybody for more than a week? 'Cause I'm fucking happy and everybody knows it. For once, Grayson, I've done something better than you. Because you make sure you always know how much stronger, handsomer, more popular, and manlier you are then me, don't you?!"

"No, I don't!"

Kristina ducks out of the way as a curled, smashed up burger flies through the air.

"Yeah, you do! And I don't give a fuck about numbers, bro! I don't give a fuck if you think you have more clout or more likes or more followers. It just gets under your skin doesn't it, Gray? That I finally have something that you don't have?"

Kristina frowns, not liking how Ethan is making her sound more like an object to be won that a human being.

"That isn't it at all, E. Fuck, bro, you're so fucking vain!"

"I'm vain. Yeah, sure, bud. That's fucking hilarious! How can I be vain, man? I bet you jerk yourself off to your own reflection."

"You don't know anything."

Ethan's hands ball into fists so tight they feel bloodless, "You're a piece of shit sometimes, you know that? Total piece of shit. The way you treat people...the way you treated the crew the other day...you might really need to go to anger management."

"Shut up."

"Hey, that voice doesn't work on me, bro. It doesn't scare me. You don't scare me."

"Shut up, Ethan."

"You think I need you, bro? You're like a little kid sometimes. Always clinging to me. Sometimes you just gotta grow the fuck up!"

Grayson's facial expression has gone from enraged to something worse. It isn't an expression that Kristina can really put her finger on but it scares her.

Suddenly, Grayson snaps back, practically running to the door.

"Don't run away from me!" Ethan screams, enraged, and quickly follows him into the house, leaving a stunned Kristina behind.

Shaking, Grayson is pushing open his door. Ethan is hot on his heels, yelling, and Grayson can feel himself deteriorating.

"What's wrong with you?!"

And something breaks in Grayson. He turns, grabbing Ethan roughly by the shoulders. He yelps, caught off guard, and is slammed against the wall, Grayson quickly pressing up against him.

"Gray, get the fuck-" Ethan begins, his hands clawing at Grayson's to let him go, about to call him every name in the book, when he cuts him off.

Grayson smashes his lips against Ethan's. 

Part 3

It's alarming how quickly Ethan can move when he's in pursuit.

It's like the passivity leaves his body, drains like pulling the stopper in a sink, and another Ethan comes bubbling up.

She isn't sure how to feel about this Ethan, the one who, within the span of a second, can yell such wayward obscenities at his twin brother that Kristina comes to feel like a Papier-Mache doll.

Thump, thump, thump.

With shaky hands, Kristina glances tersely at her ketchup splattered robe. The rich, pink fabric is spotted in crimson. Her throat feels dry. She licks her lips and then, running a hand through her hair, a nervous tick she has when she's worried or upset, glances towards the door, elbow perched on the very edge of the ruined picnic table.

She's shaken up, to say the least. And a tad bit confused, if she's being honest. Of course, she's seen her boyfriend and his brother tumble around, yell at each other, tease and bicker, and even once Grayson bit Ethan's shoulder to get his attention (which, of course, had been zeroed in on her) so hard it drew blood, but she's never seen them really fight, testosterone so impenetrable you feel like you're drowning in it.

Ethan is usually so passive aggressive. If "giving the silent treatment" was a game in the Olympics, Ethan would win gold. Ethan acts like he doesn't give a shit most days.

But you do, thinks Kristina numbly, you gotta care, E. It's fucked if you don't. He's family. He's your twin, for Christ's sake.

Kristina's eyes float down to the smashed burger laying just left of her foot.

This is the way things are: Ethan's the passive aggressive one and Grayson's, well, the aggressive one.

That's the order of things. By law of nature that's who they are, and you can't just screw with the law of nature, the natural order of things, can you?

Kristina's eyes are locked on the clear sliding door that, with a simple push of one's arms, connects the outside world. The door feels much farther away that it's twenty-five feet.

She lets out a small breath, contemplating what to do, feeling like everything has just imploded on itself.

After a couple more seconds, she can't handle the quietness, the tension that still permeates the air.

She gets up.

-

When Ethan was twelve years old his English teacher gave him an assignment. It was quite simple, really. He was to write at the top of his paper: 10 Things I Want in My Life. He scribbled down phrases and words like professional skateboarder, movie director, and happiness.

Those things make sense. Those things are normal.

Out of the ten things that Ethan scribbled down that day, this was not one of them.

Grayson kissing me was not in the 10 Things I Want in My Life. If he had written that, it wouldn't only have gotten him a disturbed look from his teacher, but a one-way ticket to a licensed Psychiatrist.

Grayson's lips are velvet, fuller than Kristina's, and somehow saltier too. With Grayson pinning him against the wall, his lips crushed against his, Ethan's eyes are wide open, his brain trying to compute what is happening. For a second, he really can't get it.

Grayson is....kissing me? No, that ain't right. Grayson is...giving me CPR. That's it! I'm actually on the floor 'cause...I'm dying? Dead? Unconscious?

And then Ethan's brain fully understands what's happening when Grayson begins moving his lips in a way as if Ethan's responding, like his lips aren't utterly still.

Ethan tears his mouth away from his, shoves against Grayson, shoulder pushing against shoulder roughly, jarringly, and Grayson's eyes snap open; he stumbles back about two feet.

He looks stunned like it was Ethan who kissed him instead of the other way around. All Ethan can see are the whites of his eyes.

It would be comical if this thing wasn't so disturbing.

Ethan automatically pulls his arm back, fist clenched tight, and aims for the hollow of his brother's eye...except Grayson hadn't hit him, he kissed him.

So, how's he supposed to get revenge?

Ethan's swing falters and his arm goes limp.

He mentally maps everything in his head: I got up, I came into the room, and Grayson pushed me against the wall and...kissed me. He clenches his fist and then lets his hand go limp again. Because what the fuck are you supposed to do when your twin shoves you against the wall and kisses you? Punch them? Kick them? Yell at 'em? What do you do? For a second, Ethan's too stunned to do much of anything.

"Bro, I'm-"

Grayson begins and his words sound hallowed, the husk of a fallen wasp nest left to dry out in the sun.

"What the fuck, Gray?!" Ethan spits.

Grayson takes another step back.

Ethan's face is flushed a deep red and with a jerky hand, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand. He looks down at his hand like it's infected.

"I'm, fuck E, I-I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Ethan says. "Why the hell did you kiss me?!"

Grayson is at a loss for words, looking into Ethan's blood shot brown eyes.

"I-I don't know."

"You...you don't know?"

"I," Grayson stumbles, has to hold onto the dresser for support. Every murky secret, every misshapen thought comes rushing through his head like draining blood. It's too much, too much.

What he did. How Ethan's looking at him like he's a monster. How his brain is focusing on how Ethan's mouth felt: like spun candy, wet with off-brand Chapstick.

He turns his head to the full-length mirror. The man stares back. He blinks. The man blinks.

"Gray...fuck, bro. That wasn't cool. Like, at all. You know that, right? Gray, are you...are you even listening to me....Grayson?"

He hates me now.

Grayson's eyes widen and the man's does too, mocking him, showing how fragile and frail and unstable he is. Struck with horror, Grayson can picture the whole thing in his mind's eye, the series of events unfolding, incapable of stopping them, unable to grasp tight enough onto Ethan, his shadowy form fleeing into the thick, New Jersey fog:

There he will be in five, six years, maybe even less at the rate they're going, sitting numbly at Kristina and Ethan's wedding, plastering on that Ken doll smile for family, for friends, for the cameras, who otherwise would judge his misery as one of selfishness, callousness, jealousy. He will be smiling through it all. Always, always smiling, Grayson is, smiling until his jaw aches, aches like when he's purging, getting rid of all the sin, all the little lies he tells himself to get through the day. Of course, he will be Ethan's best man. He'll expect to say something good in his speech, something cheeky, something complementary. And he will. Because Ethan's happiness is important, and Grayson would do anything to make him happy. They'll get their own house and before anyone knows it, Kristina's belly will be swollen. And like a good boy, Grayson will smile when Ethan cuts the cake at the baby shower, revealing pink cake underneath the angel-white frosting.

Grayson's partner will think Grayson loves her. He'll try his best, for her sake, but she'll understand, perhaps not to the full extent, in a month or two time, that she's not Ethan. She's a fixture, a distraction. For a moment, she'll hate this. She'll hate Grayson. She'll be concerned, too, especially when she finally realizes how contaminated Grayson is, how transfixed. However, the sense of clout and security, a handsome man and money, will drive those thoughts away like scattering deer, and she'll fall into his arms, pretend she doesn't know how much her boyfriend loves his twin brother.

"Gray? Bro, you goin' catatonic on me?" Comes Ethan's voice. He's like a lighthouse, trying to bring him back to shore.

Ethan has always been Grayson's lighthouse.

Well, up until a little over a year ago, and then Ethan officially became Kristina's.

But Grayson isn't here right now, he's far away, picturing how everything will happen. As time edges on, he and Ethan will be driven further and further apart and some day Ethan won't be just fleeing in the fog, he'll be completely gone from it.

"Gray? Grayson?" Ethan says, grasping at his brother's shoulder. Grayson's staring at the mirror, a dull, faraway expression on his face. Ethan's eyes float down to Grayson's throat and then back up, noticing the dark circles underneath his eyes.

Grayson realizes, quite instantly, that he can't let any of this happen. He can't lose Ethan. It's too horrible. All of it is just too horrible. Grayson turns away from the man in the mirror and meets Ethan's eyes, quivering.

An indiscernible expression crosses Grayson's face before he dives full force.

At first, Ethan thinks Grayson is trying to wrestle him. He's wrong.

"Stop! Stop, man! Fuck, let go, Gray! Bro." Ethan hollers, grasping Grayson by the shoulders, trying to shake him, tear at him, to get some leverage, fingers clawing at the skin hugging fabric, tearing the collar of his workout shirt, as Grayson slams him against the wall. Grayson's lips are on him again. Except this time, they aren't on his mouth; Ethan's face twists this way and that, the muscles in his neck straining as Grayson lunges for his face again, desperately, frantically, trying to kiss every part of him. His neck, his cheek, his chin, his jaw, his forehead, the butterfly wing softness of his eye lids.

Maybe he can make Ethan love him. Make him feel, make him see.

Maybe he doesn't have to use words. Grayson's never been particularly good with words, anyway.

"Gray, this isn't fuckin' funny!" Ethan shouts, face flushed, too conscious to punch Grayson, but trying to pull away, to get out of the room, to get some distance between them, to think things over.

What's there to think over, really? Ethan knows the truth now. It's clear. It's shockingly clear.

Grayson isn't jealous of me. He's jealous of Kristina.

Grayson pulls back and sequentially withdraws Ethan away from the wall, twisting his arm and shoving him onto the bed. Ethan scrambles back. Grayson rushes forward and on top of him, tugging Ethan towards him with his hands at the back of his knees.

He's desperately trying to kiss him on the mouth but Ethan's turning his head away; one of Grayson's warm hands is shoved up under his shirt, pawing at his skin not in the way they've done in wrestling before, but in a new way, a way that's frightfully intimate. Ethan's got a fist full of his hair, jerking his head back.

Grayson thinks, frantically, that if Ethan can feel how much he loves him, the two of them pressed together like they're one entity instead of two, then everything will be okay. He just wants everything to be okay.

Ethan lets out a grunt as he gets leverage and rolls Grayson under him. Just as quickly, Grayson rolls his weight and he's pinned again, squirming and pressing his hand against Grayson's throat, the other pushing harshly at his shoulder, trying not to hurt his brother, but to get out from under him. Grayson's still lunging at him, his eyes not leaving his face.

"Stop," he growls and when Grayson doesn't, Ethan lets go of the hold he has on his throat and pulls back his hand, whacking Grayson right in the mouth.

Grayson grunts, pain flashing in his brown eyes, blinking like a stunned deer, like he doesn't know where he is, the blood rising from the cut on his lower lip. A droplet of blood lands on Ethan's stomach.

"What's wrong with you, huh? Have you been huffin' gasoline, bro? Huh?!" Ethan pants, shoving once, twice at Grayson's shoulder, too bewildered and embarrassed to say what he really wants to.

Huffin' gasoline, Grayson thinks numbly. Huh, that's new.

Shakily, Grayson rolls off him and sits at the edge of the bed. Ethan sits up, running a hand through his hair, eyes on his brother's back, and tries to calm his hammering heart.

There's a moment of complete silence.

Then Grayson bursts into tears.

Ethan doesn't know what it says about he and Grayson's states of mind or their relationship, but somehow Grayson crying in front of him is more disturbing that what he was just trying to do. He's shaking, sobbing, face in his hands, bent over with his elbows pressed into the meat of his thighs.

"Fuck, Gray," Ethan mutters. Ethan is visibly shaking. He turns and sits beside his brother.

Grayson has always been an ugly crier. It isn't that he looks ugly while crying, it's that he makes the most strangled noises, wheezing sounds, like he can't catch his breath. Since he's asthmatic, sometimes Grayson truly can't catch it.

"You need your inhaler?" Ethan says after a moment. His voice is barely above a whisper.

"No," Grayson croaks out.

"I...I didn't hurt you bad, bro. Did I? You need an ice pack?"

Grayson sobs harder.

Ethan stares at the wall.

Seconds pass where all Ethan can hear is Grayson's sobbing, feel his shakiness from the movement of the mattress.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yeah." Grayson gasps.

Ethan's fingers play with the end of the crumbled bed spread.

After a minute or so, Grayson seems to get himself enough together to run a hand across his face, smearing the blood onto his chin, the cut on his lip already starting to swell, an angry red.

"I-I," Grayson tries to get out. "I just, I love you, E."

Ethan's heart is hammering in his chest. He can't meet Grayson's eyes. He feels like closing himself off. Ethan's pretty good at that, closing himself off. He did that when Sean passed away. He just folds into himself, focuses his attention on something else, anything else. He gets up and leaves if things get to be too much.

But it's Grayson, not Ethan, who rises from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Grayson doesn't look him in the eyes. He's staring at the floor.

"I gotta get out of here." He finally says after a minute of complete silence. Then, he looks up at Ethan, the tears streaking down his face, flicking off the edge of his jaw.

"Gray, don't leave, bro," Ethan says, softly. He doesn't know what else to say. All the anger has left him. He's tired. So fucking tired. And confused. And hurt. And a little freaked out. No, he's very freaked out. It isn't every day you realize your identical twin is in love with you. Does that make Grayson a narcissist? Ethan thinks numbly. It would be funny if it wasn't so crazy.

Grayson straightens his shoulders, but they slump again, like he can't quite do it. He's shaking his head quickly from side to side.

"I gotta get out of here," he croaks. Ethan leaps from the bed to stop him as Grayson turns.

Kristina is standing in the doorway.

Kristina's face is as white as bone.

For once, she's not smiling. It's strange not to see Kristina smile. It feels wrong. It feels tainted. To see Kristina Alice not smiling should be a crime.

Ethan's heart is in his stomach. How much did she see? How much did she hear?

Grayson doesn't pause. He shoves past her and she has to jerk back to let him through.

Her large brown eyes don't leave Ethan's face as Grayson stumbles down the hallway and out the front door, breaking into a run for his Porsche when he notices the workers' eyes on him. 

-

Grayson doesn't know where he's going. He doesn't turn the GPS on. His hands are loose on the steering wheel.

Where to? Back to Encino? Some beach, some ocean to dive straight into?

Usually when he's driving his car it's through thick L.A. traffic. He's normally blasting Kid Cudi or Cub Sport or The Weeknd. He's usually cursing, too, and having the overwhelming urge to jump out and strangle the next driver who cuts him off.

It's nearly silent. There's just the air conditioning and the thudding of his heart and the low purr of the engine as the sports car slides against the cooling black tar. He licks his busted lip, tasting the coppery tang of blood and swallows thickly.

For being nearly six, the traffic is pretty congested. He hates the sudden stops and goes, wanting nothing more to tear completely out of the city.

He restrains himself. Before he knows it, he's outside L.A.'s city limits and he presses hard on the gas, speeding down the freeway. Palm trees flash by him, a mash of green and brown.

The awful feeling bubbles up in Grayson's stomach; he feels like he has eaten a dozen stones. With quivering fingers, he runs his hand through his hair, gripping tightly at the strands.

Grayson knows he's fucked up. He's fucked up bad.

He doesn't think he can play it off either. He can't go back there and pretend nothing happened. He can't say, "I was kidding, man. It was all a prank. I got you!"

What the hell is he supposed to do?

To be continued...


	29. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the third part to "Heat (Or the Lack Thereof)." Ethan's pregnant. He and Grayson go out to a restaurant and sexiness ensues.

A/N: Hey, everyone! I just wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your loving, supporting, and funny comments for "The Green-Eyed Monster." I am currently working on the last part of it. I thought I'd post this one in the meantime.

-

It's Date Night and Ethan is late.

Well, his twin would probably say that this is Grayson's fault, that Ethan has only adapted to a lifetime of waiting for Grayson and can therefore not be held accountable for any changes in their long-established routine.

And Ethan is not exactly wrong. After all Grayson's perfect time management is mostly due to Ryan and has nothing to do with a newfound sense of punctuality on his part - experience has taught them both that Grayson usually needs some thirty minutes extra, and it's not really E's fault that today is the one exception to that rule.

Still, being all dressed and ready to go while Ethan is clearly not feels like a victory and Grayson's damn well going to treat it as such. So yeah, he's totally going to gloat and be a cocky bastard about it – as soon as he's done watching Ethan, that is.

His brother is beautiful tonight, all soft and relaxed, puttering around the kitchen in sweatpants and his favorite hoodie. E hasn't noticed Grayson yet, is too busy doing the dishes and humming to himself to look up from the counter and Grayson shamelessly takes advantage of his distraction.

It's not often that he gets to see Ethan like this, all unguarded and stupidly domestic, not a hint of his serious businessperson/YouTuber persona, and for a moment it all comes rushing back to the surface. He still can't believe that they are allowed to have this, are allowed to be selfish just this once, to focus on family before clout.

Suddenly the ten feet between them feel like the freaking Grand Canyon and Grayson silently slides closer and slides his hands around the omega's waist.

"Hey, E."

He can feel Ethan stiffen for a moment before his brother recognizes him and relaxes back against his chest. Grayson responds by pulling him even closer and presses a kiss against Ethan's temple, hands immediately scooting down to rest protectively against the swell of Ethan's stomach. His twin's eyes twinkle with amusement, but he mercifully doesn't call Grayson out on his new obsession.

"You're way too early, Grayson. What are you doing here already?"

There's real surprise in Ethan's voice and more than a hint of disbelieve and Grayson can't help but scowl. Come on, he's not that bad! Especially not when they've made plans to go out!

Then again, Ethan knows perfectly well how distracted Grayson can get when it comes to the tiny new life growing inside of Ethan and he probably thought it would take Grayson ages to make his decision. But baby bed shopping with Ryan has been a major success and right now Grayson is buzzing with energy, torn between the desire to surprise Ethan and his need to gush about how perfect their final pick is.

He reluctantly settles on surprise but can't resist to lean over and kiss him properly, tongue expertly coaxing Ethan's lips open so that they can start making out in earnest.

Ethan allows it for all of thirty seconds before he starts pushing Grayson away.

"Give me ten minutes to get changed, Gray. I'll meet you at the car. You can fondle me after we're done with dinner."

"What if I'm not in the mood for food right now?"

Grayson wiggles his eyebrows suggestively for emphasis. Ethan snorts.

"You are always in the mood for food, Grayson. And stop being gross, I can't believe you've ever gotten laid using lines like that!"

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

Grayson barley manages to duck the dish towel that is flung his way.

-

Dinner is awesome and Grayson watches with satisfaction as the omega wolfs down a giant plate of pasta without any sign of self-consciousness. It took a lot of effort to get Ethan there, to convince him that he needs to eat more, that it's fine if he does. He's growing a freaking baby, for fuck's sake. It's no wonder he has started eating for two.

But E has always been a health nut, just like Grayson to some extent, and has always been proud of his hard-earned, cute muscles and perfect abs, and seeing all of that slowly disappear beneath his ever-growing baby bump is hard on him.

It wasn't easy to convince his twin that while he loves sexy, slim Ethan (he's freaking hot after all), he's also quite partial to Baby-Bump-Ethan.

It probably is just some weird, animalistic Alpha complex, because yeah, Grayson did that. He's the reason that E is all knocked up and round and gorgeous and Grayson can't help but feel proud and grin like a lunatic whenever his eyes catch on the small but unmistakable swell of his belly.

I did that. Ethan chose me. He chose me.

His need to touch and show Ethan off is probably bordering on obsessive at this point but Grayson's always been on the possessive side (it's an Alpha thing, really) and he knows perfectly well that Ethan's just as turned on by the whole thing as he is, even if he doesn't say it specifically.

It doesn't help that people are constantly watching them – male omegas are rare enough to draw everyone's attention and E looks absolutely breathtaking tonight.

Of course, on their channel they specified that an unnamed Alpha had gotten Ethan pregnant. Social media went wild, already speculating names and the gender.

Ethan has that whole pregnancy-glowing-thing down to a T and it's really no surprise that Grayson's not the only one unable to look away. Even though most people observe them with a mixture of friendly curiosity and blatant fascination, others look a little too eager at Ethan. Grayson has long since made it his new hobby to stare down anyone whose eyes linger a little too long– Grayson can look positively feral if he wants to and it never takes him more than a few seconds to make them crumble and cower under his steely gaze. Grayson's talented that way.

Mission accomplished; Grayson turns back to watch patiently while E clears his plate (Grayson's always been a fast eater) and listen to him swoon over some new video he watched about how to "properly" decorate a baby's room.

He's so damn sexy when he does that, when he gets excited about something, that Grayson can't hold back any longer.

He forgets where he is.

Grayson's on the move in seconds, leaning over their table and pulling him down for a heated kiss, hot and deep and chocolate-flavored.

Well, they're done eating now, aren't they?

Ethan comes easily, lips already parted and tongue sneaking out to push into Grayson's mouth eagerly, forgetting they are in public, too. They kiss for a while, kiss until they're out of breath and Grayson's back is hurting from being in this awkward halfway-bend-over-the-table position for too long. He's also pretty sure that he's managed to get chocolate mousse all over his shirt – a common hazard when you forget to put the dirty dishes out of your way first.

They only break apart when someone clears their throat nearby and a quick glance around the room is enough to confirm that everyone is staring at them again.

And then both of them realize that they've made a huge, stupid mistake. They aren't supposed to be in love.

Of course, most fans already know, already can tell by the looks both Ethan and Grayson give each other, especially since they mated officially a few months prior. Alpha/omega twin mating pairs or not uncommon, but both of them are still just a tad bit conscious of what others might think.

"Let's get out of here?" Ethan sounds completely wrecked and scared and excited and the way his voice trembles slightly with desire goes straight to Grayson's member.

They signal their waiter and after their little show, the poor guy is only all too happy to get them their check as quickly as possible (probably to stop them from moving into R rated territory – this is one of L.A. most popular family restaurant after all) and so they're up and on their way in a matter of minutes.

They don't quite make it to the Tesla.

-

Ethan huffs in exasperation when Grayson pushes him up against the bathroom wall of the restaurant, though judging by the heat in his eyes he's more than okay with the treatment. The obvious tent in his slacks only confirms that – the omega might protest and call him a weirdo, but they both know that Ethan's just as much of an exhibitionist as Grayson is, simply loves the thrill of a possible discovery, loves to be taken and claimed and pleasured in plain view of everyone but, of course, that is only in the depths of fantasy.

But that doesn't mean it isn't fun to pretend. And plus, there is a real chance they can get caught.

Grayson pulls Ethan in for a kiss, grins when those lips open for him immediately and dives right in, lets his tongue slide into Ethan's mouth like he owns it, deep and dirty and just a hint of teeth to rile him up some more.

His hands are opening up Ethan's shirt, annoying button by annoying button – he'd rather rip the damn thing off, but Ethan will never forgive him if he has to walk back to Smooth Cat half-naked.

Grayson's less careful with his own and will probably have to buy a new one as a result, but the important thing is that they're finally, finally skin to skin.

Ethan is impatiently sliding his hand into Grayson's pants to wrap around his enormous Alpha member and jack him off with strokes that are just a little too slow and loose to do more than tease Grayson into insanity. Freaking omega hormones, man, they've been firing up Ethan's libido since the day he conceived, and he's been fucking insatiable ever since - Grayson is loving every damn minute of it.

Ethan's breath hitches when Grayson's teeth find that one spot just below his collarbone and gently sink into it, lips immediately soothing the sting and kissing their way even lower. Bending slightly, Grayson spends some time with each of Ethan's nipples, kisses and sucks until they are both hard and swollen and wet, quivering when he blows his breath all over them.

"Shit, so fucking sexy, E," Grayson growls. "Can't wait to see you swollen with milk, leaking all over yourself because it is just too much... You'll even let me taste it, won't you?"

Grayson bites down harder for emphasis, smirks at the answering moan. "So sensitive already... It will only get worse, E. Soon you'll be crazy for my mouth, you'll push me down and make me suck on those pretty little nipples of yours until you're gasping and desperate and begging."

Ethan's pecs are already starting to get softer, fuller, slowly changing and adjusting to accommodate the new tissue, preparing themselves for their new task. And fuck, watching Ethan feed their child will drive Grayson fucking crazy, he's sure of that.

The thought is overwhelming.

Grayson lets his hands slide all the way down until he's cupping Ethan's softening belly and he leans closer to kiss the ever-growing bump, uses lips and tongue to map out any recent changes. Ethan's only four months in, their child only avocado-sized (Grayson's read that online once and found the comparison hilarious), but the swell of E's belly is already unmistakable. It's more than enough to fill both of Grayson's hands and steadily growing, and someday soon they'll both be able to feel the movements of tiny hands and feet pushing up against the firm skin. Grayson can hardly wait to feel their baby.

The muscles in Ethan's stomach twitch when Grayson's tongue circles his belly button and so he gives it a few more teasing licks before pushing in deeper, alternating quick stabs of his tongue with gentle sucking and tiny kisses until Ethan is shaking with the effort of staying quiet.

"Don't hold back, E, I wanna hear you. Want you to tell them all how much you love this, wanna hear it, baby. Wanna get you wet."

Grayson wraps his hand around Ethan's swollen omega member and starts stroking him leisurely while inhaling, scenting that Ethan's so aroused that he's producing slick. It drives his Alpha instincts wild. It all does: Ethan's swollen belly, Ethan's eyes looking at him like this, panting, making the loveliest, sweet, high pitched omega pants.

Ethan curses softly and bucks into the touch, dark eyes locked on Grayson, lips slightly parted and wet with saliva.

"What do you think they'd do if they knew, E? If they knew that I'm such a strong Alpha that I got you knocked up and bred on your first shared heat with me? That you're all gorgeous and swollen and heavy with our baby and you're already panting for more?"

Grayson leans down to lick up the precome, lets his tongue dip into the slit of his dick and then kisses his way down the hard length.

"You'd let me do it again, baby, wouldn't you? Would let me knock you up a second time right here, right now?" Grayson rumbles.

Ethan moans when Grayson's right hand slips behind his balls and in between his cheeks to rub against his wet hole.

"Fuck, Grayson, ah. Ah."

Ethan's back arches at the first press of one dry finger inside his wet ass and Grayson pushes it deeper, twisting, his body responding, greedily taking him in. He's practically gushing with slick.

Ethan lets out a pleasured moan, eyes rolling back in his head.

He takes his sweet time fingering Ethan open, presses kisses to his quivering thighs and soft belly and whispers dirty praises against his skin until Ethan is nothing but a gasping mess and pulling at his hair hard enough to hurt. Not like Grayson fucking cares, having Ethan this desperate is worth losing a few strands. He's absolutely breathtaking.

"Gray– please! Stop teasing and fuck me already or I'll climb on top of you and do it myself," Ethan pants.

And fucking bossy, apparently. Well, Grayson's never been able to say no to his mate, so he manhandles him until he's face-first to the wall, legs spread wide. They both moan when Grayson pushes in, slick heat and tight muscle pulling him deeper and deeper until he's as far as he can go, his balls snug against his buttocks.

"Ah, baby. You're so wet," Grayson leans closer as his hips begin to move, tangles their fingers together and pushes their hands up until his forearms are bracketing his head.

He's careful not to crush Ethan with his weight but they both need this, crave this, the closeness and sweat-slick slide of skin on skin.

"So fucking sexy, E. Knocked you up so good, didn't I? You look so beautiful. So soft."

Ethan whimpers and surges up to kiss him, and Grayson lifts one hand from the wall in favor of tangling it in his hair, supporting his skull as he dives in deeper. He shifts slightly, knows he's found the right angle when Ethan cries out into his mouth and presses back into every thrust.

"You're freaking huge already, E. I can't wait to see you all swollen, barely able to get up. I'll have to wait on you hand and foot. Cuddle you in bed all day. You won't be able to walk you'll be so heavy with our baby."

At that, Ethan freaking blushes.

Here's Grayson talking dirty and sweet to him all at once; this dirty sweet talk has only gotten worse since he added Ethan's pregnancy to his repertoire.

Still, Ethan is way too coherent for Grayson's taste and he does his best to remedy that immediately, amps up the praise and starts to press kisses onto every patch of skin he can reach, one hand cradling Ethan's pregnancy belly while the other teases his nipples or dips lower to caress his omega member and balls. He's slow and sweet; Grayson wants to draw this prompt-to love session out, wants to make them both fall apart until they're past words and sentences and no longer kissing as much as panting into each other's mouths.

He thrusts harder after a moment and Ethan has to stifle a pleasured scream at the warm, delicious sensation pooling deep inside him as the orgasm builds.

They come together, clutching at the other as they shake through their orgasms, Grayson nibbling at the claiming bite at the back of his mate's neck. Grayson pushes in as deep as he can and faintly mourns the fact that Ethan can't get any more pregnant than he already is.

The knot is thick, and Grayson realizes that they're going to be here for a while.

It takes them a while to stop trembling and gather the strength to move from where they've collapsed against the wall, but the tiles are cold and probably disgusting and Grayson really doesn't want Ethan to spend more time than strictly necessary in close contact with them. But they're tied together so they're going to have to. They'll both need a long, hot shower as soon as they're back home.

Ethan's totally wrecked, half knocked-out by orgasm and it's both stupidly adorable and freakishly hot - Grayson can't quite suppress a smirk at the sight of him because, yeah, he did that. Again.

"I love you, E," Grayson says, gets into a position where he is taking most of Ethan's weight, so he isn't halfway on the tile floor.

"I can't believe we just had sex in a public restroom."

"Still technically are."

"Shut up, Gray," Ethan says, but there is an edge of pleasured sleepiness to his voice as he enjoys the feeling of Grayson holding him.

"I love you," Grayson repeats, whispering into his ear.

Ethan smiles lazily, "I love you, too."

Grayson's hand settles lovingly on his mate's baby bump.


	30. Cupped, Wretched Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after all these years, Ethan and Grayson are still messy when it comes to feeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: gore/violence, blood, oc death, overall evil twins.

“So, your place or mine?”

Ethan’s mouth curves into a smile against the skin of the man’s neck. Too easy, every time. It’s hardly even a challenge anymore, he thinks as he lets the man palm over his ass, skin-tight jeans letting him feel the muscles shift as Ethan leads him toward the side exit. Mostly he just wants to cut off the guy’s hands for daring to touch what doesn’t belong to him, but…well. Ethan figures that considering the way the man’s about to die, he can be a little generous.

“…gonna fuck you so hard, sugar, feel me for a week…”

A irritable sigh escapes Ethan, inaudible under the thump of music from the speakers around the room, and he barely restrains an eye roll as he meets the gaze of the bartender. Tom’s an old, old friend, and he flicks his eyes to the ceiling and shrugs broad shoulders like ‘what can you do?’ Ethan grins and makes a few short hand gestures in question to Tom, who nods and jerks his chin toward the back of the club. He’s smirking as he does it and Ethan takes the permission with a wink of thanks.

The human draped over his back hasn’t noticed the exchange, busy as it is spewing obscenities in his ear. Something about how tight he bets Ethan will be, how much he’s going to make Ethan love it, sugar this and honey that. Ethan wonders, not for the first time and doubtfully for the last, what it is about him that always seems to attract the talkers.

The fire door opens under a nudge of his hand and then they’re out in the alley behind the club. The door slams closed under its own heavy weight, and the only sound they have to concern themselves with now is the charged reverberation of the bass from inside.

It’s a warm night, the air dense with humidity; Ethan tries to take a moment to savor it. Feeling the moist breeze brush across his face is a simple pleasure, rudely interrupted when the human he’d momentarily forgotten slips around in front of him. Its hands are already reaching for his belt buckle.

A ball of choking anger at the audacity forms in Ethan’s chest so fast it leaves him breathless. It’s only long years of experience that allow him to dissipate it before he tears the man’s head off in a fit of pique. It is still speaking, though, and Ethan knows his patience is close to running out. Taking the man’s wandering hands in his own, he steps back and holds their bodies apart with ease despite the other’s annoyed attempt to bring them together again.

Speaking over the human’s questions and complaints, Ethan peers into the darkness behind it. “Gray, would you please shut this guy up? I swear to God I’m getting a headache.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, before the human even has a chance to feel confusion, there are four long fingers wrapped around its throat.

Ethan smiles, waiting for and then watching the pinpricks of blood that seep past the pads of the fingers. He can’t see it, but he knows needle-pointed fingernails are embedded deep into the human’s giving flesh, piercing its larynx along the length of its throat and under its chin. The most important, though, is the nail that slipped straight through the cartilage of the Adam’s apple and into that God forsaken vocal cord. A little jiggle to really tear the tissue up and the only sounds coming from the human now are choked gurgles, as it tastes its own life source.

Much better.

“Vampires don’t get headaches, bro,” Grayson reminds him patiently. Ethan finally lays eyes on his brother. Grayson is supporting the human’s weight with the nails dug into the fragile neck, his thumb pressed into the soft dip beneath the hair at the base of the human’s skull. The way his brother hardly even seems to notice the effort is arousing, to say the least. 

He just grins, ignoring Grayson’s comment. “Hey. Miss me?”

The long-suffering look on Grayson’s face turns to something else entirely.

“You were in there longer than usual. I was starting to wonder if you’d decided to have some fun without me.” Grayson’s eyes are narrowed, intent for any reaction that isn’t the one he’s looking for.

“Bro,” Ethan says predictably, immediately indignant. “When have I ever not shared with you? In fact, I think-”

Ethan’s cut off by Grayson’s free hand around the back of his head pulling him in roughly for a kiss. It’s well-known to be the fastest way to derail one of his bitch-rants, but neither of them ever minds after a while. Their lips only separate when the human sandwiched between them chokes hard and spits up a mouthful of blood onto Ethan’s shoulder.

“Just yanking your chain.” Grayson grins, mouth painting the words against his. Ethan tries to be annoyed, but with the smell of fresh blood thick between them and the unique taste of Grayson on his tongue, it’s a lost cause.

“First guy turned out to be a virgin. You know how much I hate virgins,” he explains anyway. His lips brush against Grayson’s over the corner of his mouth and up his cheek to feel Grayson’s eyelashes flutter closed. As he noses up to Grayson’s temple, he feels the small vein under the skin there pulsing only occasionally, just as he knows his own is doing. It hasn’t quite been 24 hours since their last feed, but already their circulatory systems have slowed to preserve what blood their bodies need to survive until the next meal. Whatever power or magic created them, its intricacies are a thing of beauty.

“Liar,” Grayson says as he nudges Ethan’s face away, tugging on the hair at the back of his head when he doesn’t take the hint.

And okay, so he doesn’t hate virgins. He loves virgins. Drinking virgin blood is as close to a holy experience as creatures like them can get. It’s just that he rarely indulges anymore, hating the idea that he’s going to end a life before it’s had the chance for at least one good, hard fuck. No one deserves to die a virgin.

Letting himself be drawn away, he holds Grayson’s gaze. The humor is still rich on his brother’s face, but there’s a hunger in his eyes that are darkening from their natural brown to a deep red that’s almost black. It’s a startling evolution only Ethan has ever lived to remember. The look alone is enough to spark a flame in the desire he’s felt since Grayson first drew blood from their prey.

As though aware of the direction their thoughts have turned, the human suddenly starts coughing; flecks of blood spray the side of Ethan’s face. Grayson’s sight is drawn irresistibly to the corner of his mouth, where Ethan can smell that a drop of the iron-rich fluid has landed. Saliva gathers under his tongue and it’s almost painful to keep from flicking it out to taste. He knows if he does, Grayson will be all over him like white on rice and they really have to get this show back on the road before the human has a heart attack and dies or something.

After all the effort Ethan went to tonight (being away from Grayson counted as effort, right?), it would be a damn waste.

His thoughts are dangerously on the money, he realizes as he drops one of the human’s wrists. Pressing on the fabric of the man’s shirt over its heart, Ethan feels it beating faintly but fast, and the man’s face is pale, skin clammy. His eyes roll suddenly, and Ethan knows the human’s going into shock.

Ethan sighs. He hates being rushed.

“‘Scuse me a second,” Ethan apologizes to Grayson with a flash of his usual cocky grin before swooping in to catch their victim’s open mouth in a kiss. The first taste of the blood pooling in the man’s mouth and smearing its lips is enough to make Ethan’s knees tremble. It’s an effort to stay focused, to not just force that weak jaw wider to get to the new blood that the man gags up on every other barely-sustaining breath. The only thing that stops him is Grayson’s hand on the back of his head. His brother’s nails have lengthened to scratch his scalp as he drags his palm down Ethan’s nape to rest on his shoulder. It’s a warning that he heeds.

It doesn’t take long for his saliva to enter the human’s blood stream. It makes the man pliant between his and Grayson’s torsos, but also puts strength into the body to keep it alive long enough for them to enjoy it. When the human’s heart rate steadies to something resembling normal, Ethan knows he’s done enough. They won’t have to abandon this one as a lost cause and go back inside to find someone else.

The knowledge doesn’t stop him from sweeping his tongue against the human’s a little longer, pressing it to the back of the man’s teeth to taste the blood staining them. What stops him is those teeth suddenly closing hard on his tongue. He pulls away fast, laughing in surprise. He hadn’t thought the man still had it in him. Grayson’s own huff of laughter is probably at Ethan’s expense, but he’s okay with that. Sucking on his lips to get the last of the human’s taste off them, he meets its hazy eyes and smiles.

“Now now, sugar, there’s no need to be rude,” he chides in affected disappointment. “I just saved your life.”

His gentle tone belies the grip he takes on the roots of the man’s gelled hair, pulling its head back slowly just to watch Grayson’s bloody nails inch out of its convulsing throat. It’s a heady, erotic sight as Grayson, knowing Ethan is watching with rapt attention, carefully sinks his nails back into the parted flesh. Ethan’s cock twitches in his jeans as blood is forced out around Grayson’s fingernails where they’re welcomed back like blade to a sheath.

It’s not even an option, as far as Ethan’s concerned, to keep from lowering his face to the human’s neck and licking a stripe up the red, wet skin. His tongue bumps over Grayson’s fingers and Grayson groans somewhere above him. It’s a sweet sound. He sucks on Grayson’s bloodied fingertips where they meet the human’s neck, tiny sips of his mouth drawing fresh blood from the wounds.

He’s being indulged, he knows, as Grayson bends his knuckles into his questing lips. His lips move from the warm skin rushing with blood to Grayson’s cooler hands, careful not to dislodge his fingers. The digits aren’t yet hot with the flush of stolen life, but there’s nothing in the world Ethan loves more than the taste of blood, any blood, his own blood, on Grayson’s skin. The way the flavors combine in his mouth never fails to call to the rabid creature inside him that wants nothing more than to drink blood and fuck, to the exclusion of all else.

Ethan has to exercise great control as his fangs finally descend, refusing to stay out of the game any longer. It’s hard work to keep from slicing Grayson’s fingers while he licks and mouths at the tacky, drying blood higher up his brother’s hand. He knows Grayson wouldn’t mind if he tore his entire hand open in his passion, has done it before more than once. But he also knows that Grayson’s aware of the craving he’s withstanding—that they’re both withstanding—just to taste Grayson this way. It’s that sufferance, that tenderness he’s showing by letting Ethan delay their meal that makes him gentle.

“You finished, bro?” Grayson asks softly, amused, when Ethan’s nosing under his brother’s palm to find any stray smears of blood. There are fresh streaks of it running from the human’s neck, under the tips of Grayson’s fingers, and the front of its shirt is soaked black in the darkness. Ethan can almost hear the way Grayson is vibrating with hunger. He hasn’t tasted a drop of it since Ethan brought their night’s prey out of the club, and Ethan’s abruptly on fire with love for Grayson, who’s always so fucking patient when Ethan’s in one of these moods. It makes his heart feel too big for his chest and he has a frantic thought that if he doesn’t kiss Grayson right now, it will stop working.

Their mouths collide and a breath punches out of Grayson as he gets that first taste of blood from Ethan’s lips. His brother’s fist closes tight around the human’s throat in a spasmodic fit of thirst, and the human pressed between them instantly goes quiet. There’s no choking or gurgling now, so Ethan knows that Grayson’s crushing its wind pipe. If he succeeds, it will put an end to their meal. Grayson doesn’t realize he’s doing it, though, Ethan’s sure, and with the way he’s eating at Ethan’s mouth, their fangs slashing each other’s lips and tongue, Ethan knows Grayson won’t—can’t—release their victim on his own.

Pulling back what distance he can with Grayson holding him so tight, Ethan frantically licks at his own lips, spreading saliva as quickly as he can. He only needs to avoid Grayson’s fangs long enough to give the splits in his mouth a second to heal. Grayson has already well and truly cleaned the human’s blood out of Ethan’s mouth, and without Ethan’s spilling between them, Grayson’s need loses its frantic edge. But only for a moment. Taking the advantage, Ethan’s left hand shoots up to the back of the human’s head to yank Grayson’s thumb hard, the crack of bone a shock in their ears.

There’s nothing but their own fast breathing and the reassuring sounds of life from the human for what seems like an age. Ethan and Grayson’s eyes are locked, red on red standing out against skin that’s pale in the dark. The air is still around them, like the world’s holding its breath.

Grayson shows his teeth in a predatory flash of white and they crash back together in a whirlwind of limbs, Ethan’s right hand coming up between them, nails extended to rip open their victim’s neck. Jugular veins are severed as easily as a knife goes through soft wax, and blood from the carotid artery gushes hot and fast. Not a drop to be wasted, Ethan grabs Grayson by the hair and shoves his brother’s face into the flow of blood.

The scent is everywhere around Ethan and he feels like if he breathes in hard enough his skin will absorb it too. Metallic and thick, the smell chokes him as it fills his lungs and burns its way down his nostrils. Grayson’s moaning like he’s having the best fuck of his life as he sucks and licks at the gaping wound in the crook of their human’s neck; it’s only those sounds that keep Ethan from tearing Grayson away before he’s had enough to sustain himself.

In the meantime, Ethan pushes frantically against the human body at his front; can’t keep himself from grinding his hard cock into the man’s hip. He’s so fucking turned on watching and hearing Grayson that he could probably cream his shorts from that vague friction alone.

Arousal and hunger are eating at Ethan’s insides, but it’s impossible to get to the human’s neck with Grayson’s head in the way. Ethan scratches hard at the man’s shirt, separating the fabric from collar to hem. Without the material there to absorb the blood that Grayson can’t catch all at once, it flows down fake-tanned skin unimpeded until Ethan latches his mouth to the man’s chest and takes what he can.

It’s not coming fast enough, though, and the unnatural chemical taste of the tanning lotion has him growling in frustration. Spitefully, he bites hard around the man’s pec and sucks for a moment before following the thickest blood trail up to its source. Deciding he’s waited long enough, he licks and bites his way up to the man’s shoulder, barely keeping from grinding his fangs into the bones in his haste.

Detaching a vampire from its meal is a dangerous business, but unless he wants Grayson to drain the man dry like the greedy little blood-sucker he is, Ethan doesn’t have a choice. Biting deep into flesh and muscle, he latches onto the vein at the curve of the man’s shoulder. With blood in his own mouth, he knows he’s less likely to lose his shit and try to attack Grayson to get at their victim when Grayson doesn’t give it up easily. Which he won’t.

Realistically, Ethan could feed from the fat vein under his teeth and be satisfied, but damn it, blood just tastes better from an artery. Ethan wants a turn, dammit.

With the hand that’s not holding the human’s ass steady for the barely conscious thrusts of his hips, he reaches up and slides his fingers under Grayson’s cheek. His hand is instantly soaked in blood and he pushes up farther until his fingertips are slipping into one of the open gouges on the human’s neck, feeling the pulses of blood spurt from the severed tissue. It’s like holding his hand under a running faucet, feeling the warm water break over his skin, but it’s a sensation he doesn’t get to enjoy for long. Grayson snarls like a wild animal, biting down hard on the backs of Ethan’s fingers where they’ve intruded on his meal, tearing the skin wide open.

Ethan returns the snarl, lip curling back over his teeth where they’re clamped in the human’s body. It’s a matter of a split second for him to turn his palm up, hook his index and middle fingers behind Grayson’s front teeth and jerk upward. 

It takes Grayson a minute, but he finally recognizes Ethan’s blood in his mouth and stops fighting against his brother’s hold. Grayson throws his head back to draw deep on oxygen. The sight of him, face and neck smeared and dripping with blood, is like the world’s most potent aphrodisiac, and Ethan nearly doubles over from the intensity of the arousal that explodes in his belly.

As it is, his body curls itself around the human without any kind of input from the rest of him. He presses his face straight into the fount of blood still emptying the life from its host’s body and breathes. The pulse has slowed, and Ethan takes a second to grind his face even closer to the human’s flesh, forcing apart the edges of the deepest wound to get as near as he can to the pulsing artery. The blood there is hot against his tongue as it pools inside the seal he makes with his lips. It’s so soft, so fucking smooth as it runs down his throat.

Ethan sinks his fangs in and starts pulling, great heaping mouthfuls.

It’s an unsophisticated simile, but when he thinks about it (which isn’t very often, and only during dinner time), he likens feeding to a sponge filling with water. The blood fills out every empty space inside him. It plumps tissue and blood cells and makes muscles and organs strong again. It makes him feel bigger than he really is. It makes him think of Grayson, how he’s experiencing the same. 

The mere thought of Grayson has him moaning and blood spills from around his mouth. It feels like a race to lick it up while more pulses from the human’s neck, but the flow is getting sluggish now. The human won’t last much longer.

Once he’s not quite so single-mindedly focused on the blood he’s taking, Ethan registers Grayson’s hand stroking his head gently, carding through thick, sweaty hair. It takes another moment after that to really see Grayson once he opens his eyes and peers up. When he does, he honest to God almost comes in his jeans right then and there. He’s full of blood and so fucking high on it that the sight of Grayson is almost too much to bear.

Yeah, Grayson has always been the most outrageously handsome creature Ethan has ever seen and he’s seen creatures that are literally born to be breathtaking. But now, like this? Drenched in blood and his eyes the most spectacular shade of jewel red Ethan’s ever seen in his life, gazing down at him like he’s so fucking special. Grayson could bring nations to their knees.

Ethan gets that same sensation he did earlier, but with his heart pumping fresh new blood, he feels like he’s been electrified. The depth of emotion he feels for Grayson sizzles and crackles like a static charge through every cell in his body. It leaves him breathless as he rides it out.

There’s a moment where he pretty bizarrely feels like he’s going to burst into tears, which he knows would only make Grayson smile right now, but jeez, he’s still got a freakin’ dick here. As much as he would like to hide it, he knows his face is an open book and that’s bad enough. He’s flayed open by blood and love, every thought written like an invitation.

Grayson’s never needed an invitation when it comes to Ethan, but he takes it reverently just the same, cupping Ethan’s bloody cheek as his fangs slide out of the generous flesh of their human.

“Fuck, bro,” Grayson murmurs. His eyes are lit from within and there’s fierceness in the quality of his speech as he smears a wet drop of blood from Ethan’s eye. It leaves the lashes sticky and clumped together when Ethan blinks it open again. The words, when they register, hit Ethan like physical blows and his eyes nearly roll up in his head. The sun the twins haven’t seen in a hundred years never shone as bright as the joy Ethan feels right then.

“Fucking love you, Gray,” he gasps out on what feels like the last breath he’ll ever take and he scrambles to get his arms around his brother. The human is in the way; Ethan’s left arm practically has to get it in a headlock to wrap his arm behind Grayson’s shoulder.

Their mouths come together in a kiss so hard that Ethan feels bruises on his face where their cheekbones and jaws meet, healing an instant after they form. Ethan’s fangs receded almost as soon as he’d finished feeding, but Grayson has never quite got the hang of controlling his own. Their mouths are both getting nicked and cut and the blood that spills between them is still mostly human. It’s so new in their systems that it hasn’t had time to transform into whatever it becomes that keeps a vampire alive and whole through death.

It’s an intoxicating thing to taste mortality and immortality together and Ethan licks and sucks it from the gashes in Grayson’s skin. Grayson mirrors him all the way. Thrusting hard against the human’s abdomen, he feels Grayson roll against it from the other side, and only just notices the heartbeat against his own chest has lost any real rhythm. It’s beating in spastic little hiccups and flutters and the wet rattles that were passing for the human’s breathing until now are turning into shallow gasps.

“Gray,” Ethan groans into his mouth, barely the courage of his own convictions to keep from falling back onto Grayson’s lips and tongue. They don’t have long.

It doesn’t faze Grayson when Ethan denies him access to his plush mouth; he takes it in stride, sucking and nipping a trail of bloody spots down Ethan’s neck to the hollow of his throat. He grazes two shallow cuts into the jumping, pale skin. The flat of his tongue has started cutting a swath along Ethan’s collarbone when Ethan finally gets enough of a hold of himself to close a hand around the front of Grayson’s throat and force him back. There’s an automatic, half-formed snarl on Grayson’s face before he remembers it’s just Ethan and the expression swiftly forms into a heated smile.

“G, you wanna take it?” Ethan asks, eyes flicking to the limp human between them and then back to Grayson in question. Anticipation curls like smoke in Ethan’s gut and he feels breathless as he waits.

It takes Grayson a second, two, and Ethan knows his brother’s now hearing the failing beat of the human’s heart. The last breath the human’s lungs will draw isn’t far away. Grayson’s eyes go wide with recognition of what Ethan’s asking and his face suddenly crumples under the weight of his own raging desire and love for Ethan.

The impact of their mouths would break human bones and Grayson’s biting Ethan more than kissing him, but Ethan couldn’t give much less of a fuck if someone paid him to. Grayson’s reaction hits him right in the chest. It’s like a mouthful of the purest virgin’s blood after a month of starvation.

“You sure, bro?” Grayson’s panting between frantic licks at Ethan’s mouth. His spit is healing the cuts his fangs tore into Ethan twice as fast as Ethan’s could on its own and his actions and words are an apology and a plea all wrapped up in one. “You sure? Fuck, I want to, please, but are you sure? Tell me, E, come on.”

Grayson’s desperation washes over Ethan like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping as it crashes over his head. They don’t do this very often, and for good reason, but there is nothing in the world he wants more right now than to see Grayson take this human’s life and draw its death right into his body.

“Yeah, Gray, hurry, want you to,” Ethan assures him and the two of them aren’t so much necking now as rubbing their faces against each other. Their lips drag over the drying blood on each other’s skin.

“Wanna fuck you like that, Gray,” Ethan confides. Grayson’s strung-out gasp is cut off as Ethan’s hand twitches closed around his throat for a long moment at the thought. The convulsive bob of Grayson’s Adam’s apple under his palm has his cock throbbing and leaking a sudden spurt of precome against the soft cotton of his shorts. His breath leaves him with a shuddering sound and he throws his hand away from Grayson’s neck like the skin is burning.

Grayson doesn’t let it get far. He grabs his brother’s flailing hand out of the air while he’s licking flaking blood from Ethan’s eyebrow and draws it down to squeeze over the bulge in his jeans. Ethan can feel how hard he is.

“Like this, E,” Grayson instructs, rubbing Ethan’s hand up and down the thick length of his cock behind his fly. It sounds less like he’s ordering and more like he’s begging. “Like this while I kill him for you, bro.”

The pounding bass from inside the club skips like a scratched record when Ethan throws his head back and roars, unable to keep it locked up inside anymore. It doesn’t give him a split second of concern knowing every human within a three-block radius and every non-human within ten just heard him. Nothing could stop him from getting what he wants right now, and more simply than that, nothing would dare try.

As soon as he cuts the cry off, he forces Grayson and the human to their knees, dropping at their sides. Grayson’s looking at him like he can’t decide whether to bite him or the human, his lust for both of them so strong.

“I fuckin’ love you,” Grayson hisses, his lungs tight with emotion and want. Their gaze only holds for another heartbeat before he tears his way into the mauled flesh of the human’s neck and sucks with all the supernatural power in his body.

The back of Grayson’s neck is bared where his collar has pulled back and Ethan has no will to resist the primal instinct. He opens his mouth wide and closes his jaws around the back of his brother’s neck. Grayson’s growl is short, too intent on the fading life under his own mouth to spare the time to challenge Ethan’s dominance. There’s a dizzying twist of satisfaction when Grayson whimpers and relaxes under him. Ethan guesses the threat of a vampire tearing your spine out with his teeth will do that to a body.

It always takes longer than he thinks it will to draw the last drop of blood out of a human body, but Grayson’s getting close, Ethan can sense it. He suddenly can’t stand the thought of letting Grayson do it alone and his fangs descend right into the muscle of Grayson’s neck.

Ethan knows what it feels like, those last few moments before the body dies under your mouth. The taste of the blood suddenly turns to ash and it feels like swallowing razorblades. It’s a vampire’s natural warning to stop drinking before their victim dies, and it goes against every rational direction of the mind to keep going. The pain Grayson’s in calls to Ethan, each sharp breath through his brother’s nose, his strong form shaking, but he’s still so hard in his jeans under Ethan’s stroking hand. The dirtier the blood tastes under Grayson’s skin, the harder Grayson presses into his grip.

There’s a wet spot growing under the heel of his hand and he can feel Grayson’s balls drawing up tight beneath his fingertips, so he’s right on time as he pulls his fangs out of Grayson with a gasp. It’s only a second later that the human’s last heartbeat throbs through Grayson like the bass from the club and a shockwave rockets through his body.

Grayson flings his upper body away from the human with such force that he almost lays himself out on the ground. He would’ve if Ethan wasn’t holding onto him. An agonized scream tears itself from his throat, exploding into the sky like an eruption of light, and he comes hard under Ethan’s grinding palm. His eyes are tortured, and he stares into the night like he can see the great Host of Heaven above them.


	31. Wicked, Bloody Soles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: A continuation of Cupped, Wretched Hands

31.

Shoving the human’s corpse away, Ethan gets his feet planted and pulls on his brother until they’re standing. Grayson’s head falls back like his neck won’t support it and his eyes are still on the stars. What’s so fascinating up there, Ethan doesn’t know, but a hallucination in Grayson’s state wouldn’t be unusual, so he doesn’t worry.

“Come on, G, hold onto me, come on,” he mutters as he tries to get Grayson secured to him. He’s going to need both hands free to get out of the alley, but Grayson just won’t cooperate. His hands are on Ethan, sure, but they’re groping more than holding. Ethan’s never been a patient man and right now he’s so desperate to get Grayson naked that he’s at his wit’s end. He throws Grayson over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

The ladder against the club’s outer wall is strong and it supports their weight easily as they scale it. Grayson’s shoes snag on the rungs more than once and Ethan’s cussing is harmonized by his brother’s drowsy laughter.

“Go ahead and laugh. Gonna fuck you silly.” Ethan promises darkly as he climbs onto the second-floor platform. Grayson’s chuckles filter into a breathless moan at the words. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Ethan worms the tip of his shoe under the ajar window frame and lifts it until it catches. Even with Grayson’s not-insignificant weight on his shoulder, it’s an easy matter to duck down and hop through the window. He lands with a quiet squeak of rubber on hardwood.

The room they’re in is small and dark, but it’s clean and it’s empty, as always. Tom’s a good friend.

Stalking over to the huge bed that takes up most of the main space, Ethan hefts Grayson up and over his shoulder, tossing him onto the mattress. Grayson’s breath punches out of his chest on a laugh and he’s smiling when he looks at Ethan. He’s not focusing very well, but he wriggles down against the bed covers and spreads his arms and legs out lazily.

Every inch of his brother is a temptation and Ethan closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It doesn’t work, the smell of blood and come filling his lungs so fast that he almost falls. Catching himself with his palms at the foot of the bed, he drops his head between his arms and tries to get control of himself.

When Grayson starts shuffling around, Ethan looks up to catch sight of him leaning on one elbow. He’s trying to take his jacket off, but his movements are so uncoordinated that he’s just tangling himself up worse. A human would mistake him for drunk, but Ethan knows he’s not.  
It’s dead man’s blood that’s robbing him of his natural grace.

It’s almost cute to watch him fumble like a clumsy drunk and if Ethan wasn’t so aroused, he’d probably be giving in to the impulse to help him, just like when they were young. Just like when they were human.  
The thoughts should make Ethan feel guilty, and once, a long time ago, they would have. Now they just make him want him more. This is Grayson and Grayson has always belonged to Ethan.  
Throwing himself off his hands, he tears his jacket off, letting it fall where he stands. Casting a final look at Grayson, who’s trying to figure out how to get his other arm out of its sleeve without falling down, Ethan turns away.

There are candles set strategically around the room, which makes Ethan smile. He’d ranted drunkenly to Tom once, decades ago now, that he hated artificial light. Felt like it was a mocking substitute for the sunlight they weren’t allowed to bask in anymore. The next time he and Grayson had come to the room, candles had been everywhere, matchbooks from the club in easy reach wherever he looked.

Going to the coffee table, he snatches up a matchbook and sparks one of the sticks alight. He holds the flame to only a couple of the candles as he pulls his shirt with the other hand. He doesn’t want too much light. He can see Grayson as easily in the dark as in the light if he wants to, but he doesn’t want to spare even that smallest of energies tonight. Besides, Grayson’s handsome in the dark, but he’s stunning by candlelight.

Turning back, Ethan kicks off his shoes on his way to the nightstand. Grayson’s finally got his jacket off and looks adorably proud of himself as he starts unbuttoning his over-shirt. Ethan knows he’s not doing it on purpose, but it’s like a striptease. Dexterous, concentrating fingers are popping the buttons so slowly, baring inches of flesh at a time. The slightly tanned skin makes Ethan swallow thickly. The color was a gift from the sun during their mortality and neither time nor endless night will ever take it from him.

A flare of pain makes Ethan curse and he drops the burning match from his fingers. Poking his scorched fingertips in his mouth, he glares at the candle. Only three out of the four wicks in the wide candle are lit, but before he can think about grabbing another match, Grayson harrumphs and falls back to the bed.

The sting from the flame is already gone and Ethan wipes his hand absently on his jeans. He’s about to crack a joke at Grayson for leaving him to do all the hard work getting their clothes off when he sees Grayson’s face. His brother’s sweating, the sheen obvious in the flickering light. Where Grayson’s hands have fisted in the material under the third lowest button of his shirt, they’re trembling.

“Dead man’s blood, huh? Shit.” Ethan murmurs, having to fight his own instincts to wrap around Grayson and make everything better. Grayson doesn’t want that and whether it makes Ethan a bad brother, right now neither does he.

With Grayson’s eyes following every move, Ethan takes the few steps around the end of the bed and starts unlacing Grayson’s sneakers. It’s a familiar process, so he has them off before long. A quick, hard stroke of his thumbs down the arches of Grayson’s feet makes his toes curl, but Ethan doesn’t linger. His fingers slide under the cuffs of Grayson’s jeans to tuck his fingers into the edge of Grayson’s socks and pull them away as well.

Repeating the process with his own, Ethan gets his knees on the bed and crawls over him. Up close and in the shine from the candles, he can see Grayson’s eyes clearly. Around the pupil, there’s a rim of solid brown expanding and contracting against the red of his irises. Grayson’s heart is beating so hard in his chest that Ethan thinks he could hear it even if he wasn’t a vampire.

Grayson’s weak because he’s fighting. He’s as close to dying right now as he’ll ever get without losing his head or getting a stake to the heart or burning in the sun. Every drop of supernatural energy in his body is busy warring with the human’s mortal death. His stubborn immortality only cares that it’s keeping him alive, and he probably couldn’t fight off a mannequin in this state. Against Ethan, he’s as helpless as a kitten. Ethan could break every last bone in his brother’s body or drain every last mouthful of blood from his veins and Grayson couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Of course, if he really wanted that, Grayson would let him even at the height of his strength. There’s nothing Ethan could ask for that Grayson would say no to and vice versa. Ethan has always had a hard time saying no, too. They’ve proven that to one another more times than either could count.

Ethan wonders if Grayson’s fangs have retracted yet.  
Bringing a hand up to Grayson’s mouth, he thumbs at his brother’s upper lip and smiles. Straight, white, and human blunt. Grayson seems to notice then as well and his eyelids flutter shut. He gropes at Ethan’s shoulder and clenches his fingers in the material of Ethan’s undershirt, but he doesn’t even have the strength to hold it there. The only thing keeping his arm up is the neckline of the t-shirt digging into the nape of Ethan’s neck.

Ducking his head, Ethan lets the weight of Grayson’s arm drag the tee over his head. He reluctantly takes the thumb from his brother’s mouth to slip his arms out of the short sleeves. Grayson throws his hand out to the side, leaving it there after the material has fallen to the floor.

The heat from the flames of the candle are tiny, shifting flares of warmth on Ethan’s skin. He sits back, straddling Grayson’s thighs and moving to finish the job his brother abandoned. He wants to see Grayson in the soft light.

There are five buttons left to open and Ethan takes his time pressing each cool, plastic nub through its loop and then spreading the material up to the next. Grayson’s not wearing any undershirts. He hates the humidity this time of year and despises being stuck to his own clothes. It’s a prissy little quirk Ethan never tires of sassing him about, but tonight it’s a boon to them both.

When the final button is undone, Ethan sweeps the light material out to the sides and leans down, a kiss landing on Grayson’s sternum over his heart. The light fuzz of hair between his pecs tickles Ethan’s lips pleasantly as he slips his left arm under Grayson, jostling his brother slightly as he worms it up the length of Grayson’s back. He passes the old scar there without a flinch, flattening his hand up and up until it slips out the back of Grayson’s shirt collar. Cradling his brother’s head in his palm, he lifts Grayson’s upper body clear of the comforter and slides the shirt off Grayson’s shoulders. One at a time, swapping Grayson’s weight to his other arm as he needs, he pulls the sleeves off Grayson’s strong arms. If he sneaks a blatant feel of biceps and triceps as he goes, well, who’s gonna stop him?

Grayson’s sure not going to deny him. Ethan grins, eyes traveling over the smooth expanse of newly exposed skin. Grayson loves it when he goes a bit crazy over his physique, vain for good reason, especially when Grayson’s given him permission to do what he wants with it. And oh, what he wants to do with it.

It’s an effort to decide where to start and Grayson’s no help with his little smirk and hooded eyes. His chest is rising and falling on shallow breaths and his hands are still shaking, but to look at his face you wouldn’t know he was totally lacking any sort of control over the situation.

That won’t do at all.

In the time it takes to blink, Ethan’s hand blurs over Grayson’s torso.

There’s a momentary, vacuum-like stillness like the second before an explosion and then Grayson gasps, arching. Blood rises in a long, thin line under the curve of his right pectoral where Ethan’s cut him, gathering at the corner until a bead forms. Before it can spill, Ethan catches it on his fingertip and brings it to his mouth. The nail of his index finger is sharp, piercing his tongue without the slightest pressure and drawing blood to mix with Grayson’s before he closes his lips around the taste. Their blood has always gone well together, like chocolate and vanilla swirled ice cream. 

They moan in sync, Grayson’s classic ‘I want’-face a call Ethan’s hopeless to refuse. Leaning down, he sucks on his finger as he pulls it out. His tongue has already stopped bleeding, so he lets the fingernail slit open his bottom lip as it withdraws. A second before his mouth connects with his brother’s, he does the same to Grayson.

Kissing Grayson tastes like living and Ethan loses himself in it quickly. The combination of their blood runs hot in his mouth, his brother’s body tensing and relaxing against the bed. When their spit is threatening to heal the cuts, Grayson suddenly hisses, biting hard at the split in Ethan’s lip. It makes Ethan jerk, and his hips press into Grayson, fangs extending without a thought as his own blood rushes anew into their mouths.

“Fuck, Gray,” he moans. Now that he’s been reminded of his own predicament, he can’t help but keep grinding against him. He pulls back, a tortured crease between his brows at the sensation of fabric rubbing over his sensitive cock, even through all of their layers. Ethan considers stopping, knows how tender Grayson always feels after he’s come, but God, it’s like Ethan’s been on edge for a century.

“Ethan,” Grayson grumbles pleasurably, irises still that twisting scarlet and brown, barely slits where his eyelids have fallen, like he isn’t strong enough to keep them open. Hands clenching around Ethan’s upper arms, he tries to push Ethan up at the same time he squirms his hips down into the mattress in an attempt to get some space between their lower bodies. Ethan gives him the illusion of control for only a moment before exerting the barest of efforts to have Grayson pressed flat beneath him again. Their eyes meet for an electrified second before Grayson accepts his fate. He can’t stop Ethan from taking what he wants and he knows it. But is it really taking if Grayson wants it too? 

“You can’t fight me, can you, Gray?” Ethan says, just to rub it in. “You don’t even wanna try, do you?” The way he says it is almost sympathetic. Rolling his hips to hear Grayson’s breath catch, he noses at the mole at Grayson’s chin before licking the blood that’s pooled under the bow-curve of his lip. Grayson whines and Ethan smiles naughtily. “You’re like a little puppy, aren’t you? Just a weak little puppy.” The words are cruel and Ethan can feel his brother’s surprise in the sudden stiffening of the form underneath him. Grayson has a pathological hatred of feeling weak and it’s not something they touch on, ever, but tonight Ethan’s going to play him like a violin to get what he wants.

“Shut the fuck up, E,” Grayson whispers, his anger ready to break the surface at any time. Ethan can practically smell it and it’s as wickedly enticing as the scent of his blood on their breath.

“Make me, puppy,” Ethan taunts with a smirk, nuzzling down Grayson’s neck to mouth and pull at the skin. The blood zipping rhythmically through his veins is a physical sensation under Ethan’s lips. Stroking the tip of his tongue along the path the jugular would take up Grayson’s neck, he comes to nibble at his brother’s ear lobe.

Grayson thinks he’s distracted and tries to take the advantage while he can, bucking up with what strength he has. It’s not even close to enough and Ethan laughs, which just makes Grayson madder, and just makes him struggle harder. He digs his fingers into Ethan’s biceps, but the nails are only a dull pressure.

“Aw, Gray, where are your claws? Even puppies have claws.”

“Fuck you, bro,” is Grayson’s answer, and it’s obvious the way the words are slurred. Ethan hears it like a beacon, and it makes his cock throb. Grayson’s weakening himself further with this pointless straining, but Ethan lets him do it. If his brother was fighting anyone—anything else, he’d be smarter about it, they both know that. The only explanation is that he doesn’t care. Might even be doing it deliberately.  
Grayson is playing with him, Ethan realizes, just as much as he’s playing with Grayson.  
Ethan feels dizzy with understanding. The monster inside him snarls suddenly and aggressively, and Ethan feels like a bystander as his fangs sink hard into Grayson’s neck. He takes control back quickly, though he doesn’t move away, and by choice doesn’t draw blood; Grayson’s shout and subsequent squirming do that just fine on their own. Ethan only licks out to catch what he can while keeping his teeth digging hard into the skin, flesh and muscle so vulnerable under his mouth.

By the time his jaw relaxes enough to pull his fangs out of Grayson, his hips have moved into a rough, shoving pace. Grayson’s panting. Their chests are slick with sweat as the motions slide them against one another, so when their hard nipples catch and brush deliciously, a whine turns grudgingly into a moan as it passes Grayson’s lips.

“Man, you look so fuckin’ hot. You like this, huh? You did say I could have you like this, remember. This your plan all along? You’re playing me, aren’t you?” Ethan’s panting hard and even though he doesn’t want to finish like this, without even getting them naked, he can’t stop the rocking motion of his hips. Grayson’s groaning. 

“Stop fuckin’ talking. You’re too loud,” Grayson gasps.

“You want me to top you?” Ethan croons in his ear. Grayson’s got his head pressed back into the pillow, baring his neck obviously. His mouth’s open and his breath is huffing out of him to the beat of their rhythm. “Look like you just want to spread your legs and give me your ass. Which you will, I know,” Ethan promises, voice suddenly smoky. He hears Grayson swallow deeply. “You will because you don’t have a hope in hell of stopping me. Fledgling.”

Ethan doesn’t know what prompted him to say it, but he doesn’t regret it for a second. Grayson’s so far from a newborn that the insult should be laughable, but he lights up with anger. The implication that he’s a child with no control, a student who still needs his teacher to guide him, is like a slap right in his face after the rest of Ethan’s mocking.

A fist nearly catches Ethan’s cheekbone, but he’s faster, catching Grayson’s forearm before it can connect. The other arm swings out and he gets a hold on it as well; he has Grayson pinned in short order. Grayson’s eyes are a livid red, flickering only briefly with brown. The human’s death will take hours to wash from his system, but he’s so angry now it’s actually showing.

Chest heaving, Grayson breathes like he’s just run across the country. His teeth are bared as he snarls and it probably doesn’t help that Ethan’s so delighted by the reaction that it shows.

“Fuck you,” Grayson hisses, his voice barely a rush of air.

“Just yanking your chain,” Ethan says, collecting Grayson’s wrists into his left hand and levering himself up. With his free hand, he reaches between their bodies and starts unbuttoning their jeans, continuing almost conversationally just to hammer the point home, “I mean, it’s not like you can stop me, so why shouldn’t I?”

When Ethan finally gets them both unzipped, he notices something he’d missed and comes to a complete stop. So focused on the game he was playing, he hadn’t felt Grayson getting hard. He’s not even halfway there, but he’s definitely stiffening, and without thinking, Ethan puts his hand over the front of Grayson’s boxer-briefs. They’re still tacky with his earlier orgasm, but as Ethan palms the dark spot, he feels Grayson’s warm cock jerk softly, growing a little harder under Ethan’s hand. It almost shouldn’t be possible. After coming once already and being full of dead man’s blood, Grayson’s dick should be the last thing diverting energy from his body’s business of healing itself. To get even this hard, his arousal would have to be more than intense.

A smile spreads Ethan’s mouth slowly and he looks up at Grayson through his lashes. The expression on his face must be frightening, because Grayson gulps nervously and licks his lips. His cheeks flush with blood when Ethan doesn’t look away, just watches him.

“Damn, Gray,” Ethan breathes, all coy shock. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Releasing Grayson’s wrists, he grabs Grayson’s jeans and shorts at his hips and jerks them down in a harsh movement that makes him yelp. After that, his wiggling is really only helping Ethan’s cause as he shuffles off the end of the bed and pulls at Grayson’s layers to throw them carelessly over his shoulder. There’s no patience to take care of his own right now, so he just leaps back up and forces his way between Grayson’s legs.

The skin of his brother’s inner thighs is one of his favorite parts of Grayson’s body. Soft and a little paler than the rest of him, the fine hairs always tickle Ethan’s palms in the best way. It’s a great spot to settle and drink from and Ethan’s mouth waters at the memories of all the times he’s done just that.

Scraping his teeth across his upper lip, he looks Grayson over. It’s a sight to behold and he has to rub himself through his boxers for a second just to calm down. If he doesn’t relax, he’s going to do something that will end this whole thing regrettably fast.

Grayson takes the opening to kick half-heartedly at Ethan, but his eyes are on Ethan’s hand where it moves lower to squeeze gently at his balls, and Ethan snags his leg by the ankle. He doesn’t try again with the other foot, just watches raptly as Ethan lowers the waistband of his boxers to tuck snug under his sac. It feels good to finally be unconstrained and he takes a deep breath, dragging the flat of his hand up the length of the underside. His eyes don’t leave Grayson’s face, helplessly drifting to the dried blood around his lips and chin.

There’s a quiet few minutes that neither of them feels pass, their desire for one another making the air vibrate with tension. Ethan’s thumb absently strokes Grayson’s delicate ankle bone; Grayson brushes his fingers over the almost healed bite mark high on his neck. The music from the club below them shivers through the small apartment, the bass a faint thump against the floor like the beating of a distant drum.

Holding Grayson’s eyes, Ethan leans down slowly, sucking a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his knee. The muscles of Grayson’s thigh shiver and goosebumps rise on the skin. Brushing his cheek against the place where his mouth was, Ethan closes his eyes to hear Grayson tremble out a sigh, and then with a sweep of his hand up Grayson’s shin, he closes his fingers around his knee. Without a pause, he presses his tongue flat to the bottom of Grayson’s inner thigh and starts dragging it up. He licks a slow, wet path directly over the vein closest to the surface that goes all the way up the leg. In his mind, he can see himself using a long, sharp fingernail in place of his tongue, splitting flesh and slicing that vein up the length of Grayson’s thigh. He could paint a pretty red picture all over Grayson with his own blood and eat it up when he was finished.

But not tonight.

Reaching the crease of Grayson’s groin, he nudges Grayson’s balls with his nose, pressing between them through the soft skin of his sac.

“Ethan.” Grayson’s whisper is shaky.

“Let me, G,” Ethan says. His voice is quiet, and if a human was standing next to him, they wouldn’t hear it, but Grayson does, and he doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t ask Ethan to stop, but doesn’t encourage him either.  
But Ethan knows all the same. 

Grayson has always had sensitive balls, to the point that he actually, genuinely passed out when he was a teenager after some girl stuck her foot in them, passing an angry message to Ethan through his twin. The lightest touch is enough to stop Grayson’s breath and rough handling is guaranteed to get him off fast. Playing with them after he’s had an orgasm is usually a no-no, but Ethan wants, and Grayson’s in a giving mood tonight.  
Grayson’s already breathing hard, though it ratchets up a notch when Ethan gets just enough of a grip to roll Grayson’s balls together beneath the skin. Ethan loves the way that feels.

Reaching down to adjust himself with his free hand, he accidently squeezes Grayson harder. On anyone else, it might cause a twinge of discomfort at most, but with Grayson and his hyper-sensitivity, it’s like grabbing on and tugging. Grayson groans breathlessly. 

All of a sudden it’s not enough, though, and Ethan gets his hand behind Grayson’s sac and presses it up. It’s perfect on display right in Ethan’s face and he can’t keep his mouth to himself. Closing his lips around one of the orbs, he draws it out gently but quickly, relishing the cry that gushes out of the other vampire. Grayson doesn’t seem to know which way to go as Ethan sucks the other into his mouth, rolling them against his tongue. His nose is snug up under Grayson’s cock and the musky, deep smell of his skin and come makes Ethan moan. The sound shudders through Grayson and his legs try to close, over-stimulation near unbearable, but Ethan’s shoulders are in the way.

Grayson’s breath is coming so thick now that he’s almost sobbing, Ethan’s name frequent in between gulps of air. Despite Ethan’s clear ownership of the situation, he’s still trying to get his legs up over Ethan to push him away. 

Sitting up fast, he slams his mouth into Grayson’s. His thoughts have him so ready to erupt that he’s not actually breathing and he kisses Grayson into the same state. Grayson’s pawing at his face and hair, hands shaking hard without something to hold them steady.

So caught up in the slide of their tongues and the clash of their teeth, it takes Ethan longer than it should to realize Grayson’s trying to say something. He pulls away long enough to hear Grayson murmuring ‘fuck me, fuck me’ over and over again. The words are enough to tumble his stomach with want, but it’s the way Grayson’s asking that almost chokes him. Grayson’s not just begging. Grayson’s begging like he thinks there’s the possibility Ethan doesn’t want it and will say no. He’s asking, pleading, as though Ethan would be doing him a favor.

Forcing himself back with a gasp that fills every inch of his lungs, he flips Grayson fast onto his front. Grayson tries to crawl up onto his knees, so weak but so damn eager to present himself. Ethan grasps his calves and yanks him down, dropping him back to his belly.

“Stay,” Ethan snaps, and Grayson quakes but stays. There’s a breeze coming through the open window and the candles flicker but stay lit; every sensation feels so fucking good to him that Ethan gets light-headed.

There’s a packet of lube in his back pocket, he remembers. His jeans are barely holding onto the curve of his ass, but he’s glad he didn’t take them off as he plucks the sachet out and slits it open with a suddenly sharp fingernail. It’s blunt again as he empties the entire contents of the packet into his palm, working it up and around his fingers as thoroughly as he can without delaying things any longer.

Grayson’s rubbing himself against the bed like a cat-no a lion-still moaning Ethan’s name, and he looks so filthy and needy that Ethan moans back. When Grayson hears it he moans louder, pushing his ass off the bed. The curve of it is sinfully perfect, round and muscled, but it’s what’s between those cheeks that Ethan needs so badly.

With his dry hand, he frantically digs his fingers into Grayson’s thigh, pushing it up and out until the knee has to bend to stay on the bed. Every sense is heightened right now, so he hears when he pushes too hard and Grayson’s hip joint grinds. Grayson keens, but he doesn’t even make an attempt to push back against Ethan’s grip, like he would let Ethan pop it right out of place as long it made Ethan’s job easier.

“Fuck,” he curses, making Grayson jump as he pulls his leg back down an inch or two so the pressure isn’t as sharp. Throwing Grayson’s other leg to the side, he finally shuffles in close. The light from the candles casts a shadow down Grayson’s cleft and Ethan swallows as he puts his clean hand on Grayson’s ass cheek, thumb dipping down to the crease before tugging outward. Grayson moans with him as he gets his first look at Grayson’s hole. Every time, it’s like they’ve never done this before. At the sight of Grayson waiting for Ethan to open him with fingers or cock, it always feels like Ethan’s about to discover something new.

“Please, please. Fuck, come on, E, please,” Grayson’s breathing now, face turned to the side on his pillow. His face is shiny with sweat and his eyes are glittering in the candlelight.

“Yeah, G, gonna. Gonna take care of you. Always gonna…” Ethan trails off, the tip of one lubed finger swiping over Grayson’s hole. It twitches with Grayson’s surprise and Ethan repeats the move just to see it again. Grayson’s pushing back into his hand by the time Ethan takes mercy on them both and nudges in. It’s in all the way before he quite realizes what’s happening. Grayson’s so turned on that even his muscles don’t want to put up a fight anymore.

His body is hot and soft around Ethan’s finger. Ethan’s shoulders slump weakly at the feeling and he grabs Grayson’s hip with his free hand, curling his fingers around the protruding bone. It’s grounding, being able to hold onto Grayson, and although Grayson is even more lost in what they’re doing than he is, Ethan draws strength from him.

Bending down, he licks into the small of Grayson’s back, gathering the beads of sweat rolling down smooth skin as he slides his finger out. Spreading the lube around his hand again, he makes sure his fingers are coated before he places them back at Grayson’s entrance. It looks so damn tight and small against two fingertips, but he knows the size differential is only going to get more extreme. He rubs around the ring of muscle before breathing out hard and pushing in fast.

“Fuck!” Grayson whines and the grip of his ass is less giving this time. He may forever be getting hit on with skeevy comments about his big hands, but Ethan’s never been a slouch in that department either. Grayson clenches around him erratically as he tries to relax, but he pushes back for more. “More, Ethan, come on, please. Give it to me!”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.” Ethan replies simply. He’s hardly doing any of the work right now; Grayson’s rocking on and off his fingers beautifully and all he has to do is turn his fingertips down and…

“E! Oh, fuck, fuck!” Grayson’s whole body jerks as Ethan hits the right spot, and the way he squeezes Ethan’s fingers makes Ethan’s other hand tighten around his hip. 

“Come on. Slow down,” Ethan drawls, laughing through the urge to shove in and screw Grayson stupid.

“Come on?! You’re too slow!” Grayson growls nonsensically in one breath, trying to break out of the stiff hold Ethan has on his hip while he works his fingers in and out of Grayson’s ass at a measured pace. His voice drops every time Ethan strokes over his prostate. “You’ve been—ah!—hurting me all night, you f-fucker. If you stop now, I’ll fucking bre-eak your neck. Harder!”

“Fuck, bro, you’re hot when you’re desperate,” Ethan says and smiles, thrusting his fingers in hard enough to push Grayson a couple of inches up the bed and rubbing circles around Grayson’s prostate until his bitching has melted into a high pitched, over-stimulated wail. Ethan’s abs shiver on a wave of lust and he feels a drop of precome roll down the head of his cock. “Yeah, that’s what I mean, just like that. Fucking sexy.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Grayson threatens breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, fuckin’ anger management,” Ethan mutters distractedly. Even he’s getting impatient now, and he pulls his fingers out to spit on his hand. The lube spreads better and his fingers are back at Grayson’s hole quickly. His eyes are intent on the sight as he presses three fingertips in and listens to a whine catch in Grayson’s throat. He doesn’t give Grayson a chance to get use to the stretch, just starts fucking him with the digits.

The muscles in Grayson’s back are coiled and tense and his mouth is open as he pants, trying to adjust to the thickness of Ethan’s fingers. His insides flutter around them as they twist, circling up and around to loosen him. It’s something Ethan never tires of. Their bodies will forever heal and tighten and renew, so each and every time they do this, they learn it over again. Sometimes they don’t bother with the prep—just get straight down to business, and it’s intense and amazing, but this is just as powerful. It’s familiar in only the best ways where every action says ‘I know you.’

“Fuck, Ethan, why are you doing this to me?” Grayson’s voice trembles and Ethan looks up from where he’s been so focused on the movement of his fingers. Grayson’s eyebrows are pulled in and up, his face so expressively miserable that Ethan has a moment of fear that he’s actually done something to hurt Grayson.  
“Just do it already. I-I can’t. Wanna feel you so bad.” 

Ethan’s heart starts beating again and he groans at Grayson’s words. There’s something dirty in the simple way Grayson phrases what he wants that punches Ethan right in the gut. Suddenly all he wants is to get his mouth on Grayson.

Pulling sharply on Grayson’s hip, he lifts his brother’s lower half until Grayson’s ass is in the air, supported by his knees. He squawks in a way Ethan would find funny if he wasn’t so near the end of his rope. Good thing a hundred years does wonders for the stamina.

Letting go of Grayson’s hip, Ethan flips onto his back without taking his fingers from Grayson’s body, hanging off the bed before he slides his way up to shoulder his way between Grayson’s thighs until he’s shadowed by his wide frame. Grayson’s cock is right there, so hard he can almost smell the blood filling it. He can definitely smell precome and he doesn’t waste time working up to it, just closes his mouth right over the head and sucks. Grayson cries out, thrusting down uncontrollably, and he hits the back of Ethan’s tongue quickly. Another good thing a hundred years will do for you? Train away your gag reflex.

The angle’s all wrong for deep-throating, but Ethan doesn’t care, just revels in the feel of Grayson’s cock stuffed in his mouth. The pace he sets is brutal, letting the head of his cock hit the back of his throat at the same moment his fingers reach their deepest point inside.

“Ah, ah, ah,” is all that’s coming out of Grayson’s mouth now, what might be a moan, forced into pieces with the shoves of Ethan’s hand against his ass. Ethan’s not holding back and what he can get his lips over of Grayson’s cock is messy with saliva and precome. Grayson’s caught in the middle of both mind-blowing sensations and if the way he’s slowly beginning to tighten around Ethan’s fingers is any indication, he’s getting close fast.

Bringing his free hand up between Grayson’s legs makes his knees slip wider and forces his cock deeper into Ethan’s throat. Ethan would moan if he could, but he has to be satisfied with the deep groan Grayson lets out, thighs tense as he tries to keep from collapsing and smothering Ethan.

Ethan has a plan, though, and it starts and mostly ends with Grayson coming, so he redoubles his efforts. Pulling back, he sucks hard at the tip of Grayson’s cock, lips tucked into the ridge around the head until he’s rewarded with a whine as Grayson arches away. Once he has let go, he immediately licks into Grayson’s slit at the same time he rubs down on Grayson’s prostate and rolls Grayson’s balls between his fingertips.

“ETHAN!” Grayson shrieks, his shaft getting improbably harder in Ethan’s mouth as he licks and sucks what he can reach of the throbbing vein on the underside. He doesn’t let up on the circling pressure on Grayson’s prostate, his brother’s hips humping down into his mouth with little jabs.

When Grayson goes quiet except for the explosive bursts of air from his lungs, Ethan knows he’s nearly there. He wets his lips and starts bobbing on Grayson’s cock, letting go of his balls to cover Grayson’s length where his mouth can’t go. His hand slicks fast with the mess he’s left on Grayson’s cock, tongue swiping the sensitive spot under the head with every up-stroke.

Grayson hits the edge fast, then flies over it with a cry. Ethan instantly lets up on his prostate and switches to fucking him fast and deep with his fingers, knowing how he loves taking it while he’s coming: fingers, tongue, penis, it doesn’t matter. His muscles are spasming madly around Ethan’s fingers and Ethan moans as Grayson’s come hits his tongue in pulses. It’s hot and thick and it’s a challenge for him not to swallow it down as it keeps pumping into his mouth.

He struggles to give Grayson a moment’s rest when it’s over, his fingers gentle now in the still-shuddering muscles of Grayson’s ass even though Ethan’s barely holding himself together. Sucking as he pulls off Grayson’s cock makes his whole body convulse, but Ethan doesn’t have the patience to ease him through it. With his free hand, Ethan strokes one side of the v-cut that defines Grayson’s pelvis, trailing down to stop unerringly over the inch of skin where an artery is closest to the surface.

Letting the fingernail on his middle finger extend to its fullest, Ethan lifts his fingertip until only the sharp point of the nail is touching Grayson’s skin. Whether Grayson realizes what he’s about to do or not in the split second before he does it, Grayson has no time to react before Ethan sinks the needle-sharp nail all the way in. As soon as the tip of his finger is flush against Grayson’s smooth skin, he drags the nail out, a gush of blood following behind. It splashes his neck and shoulder, viscous and smelling like ambrosia before he can get his mouth under the flow.

Ethan feels like he’s never had a better reason in his life to swallow what’s in his mouth (and he’s had a whole lot of pretty amazing things in there over the years) and he nearly gags with the need as he struggles to keep his throat closed. Breathing deeply through his nose, he lets Grayson’s blood fill the rest of the space in his mouth, mixing with the come coating his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. He soon has more than enough, and he closes his mouth, blood still pouring from the gouge he made. It runs over his lips, down his cheeks and it’s so warm and smooth on his face that he nearly forgets what he’s doing. Only when his dick throbs hard does he remember, tongue coming out carefully to lick the wound, enough to seal the skin for now and nothing else. Grayson’s body will take care of the rest.

Grayson mewls, back arching as Ethan nuzzles his softening cock on his way out from between his legs. It’s such a sweetly confused sound and Ethan swears he feels his own balls tighten just hearing it.

Sitting up and drawing his fingers out of Grayson’s hole, blood rushes to his head. He steadies himself, kicks the rest of his clothes off with a few jerky motions and turns around, laying eyes on Grayson’s face for the first time in what feels like hours. His head is turned sideways on his pillow, and the cheek Ethan can see is burning red. He wants to press his lips to the soft warmth, but he has to get rid of the load in his mouth. With Grayson’s wide, wet gaze locked onto his, he grabs Grayson’s ankles and pulls them back fast until his brother’s hips are flat against the bed. Grayson doesn’t seem to have the energy to complain, just resituates his pillow and pushes up shakily to his forearms so he can watch Ethan over his shoulder.

The slope of his lower back catches Ethan’s eye, glinting moist with sweat, and Ethan’s cheeks puff out with a grin. Bending down, he opens his mouth to let blood, come, and spit rush out to make a messy puddle on Grayson’s skin.

“What the fuck,” Grayson breathes almost inaudibly, dumbstruck as he arches his neck to see what Ethan’s done. His eyes shoot up to Ethan’s and Ethan smirks.

“How you doin’ up there, Gray?” Ethan asks, voice rough from the pounding Grayson gave it and low with the arousal that’s been building all night. Not waiting for a response, he snugs up close to Grayson and sits back on his heels. Right hand molding over the mound of Grayson’s ass, reaching to dip his fingers in the slick pool of Grayson’s back, he looks down at his own cock and blinks. It’s almost a surprise to see the state he’s in. His length is rock hard when he wraps his left hand around the base. The thick vein on the underside is throbbing steadily and a brief skid of his fingers, aside from making his entire mid-section clench, reveals a sticky path that goes all the way up his shaft to the slit. He’s fucking drenched, he realizes, sucking his stomach in sharply at the zap of pleasure he feels when his fingers smear precome up and over the head.

All night, he’s wanted nothing more than to come, but he’s been so thoroughly preoccupied with Grayson that he’s totally ignored his own need. His cock hasn’t forgotten, though, and it shows in the dark flush of skin, the fleshy head almost purple under his pale fingers. It’s shining now in the firelight where he’s spread his own fluids and the sight is almost too much. Fisting his hand over the tip, he drags it all the way down the fat length and then back up, ass cheeks clenching as he tries to follow his own grip.

A moan from Grayson tugs at his attention and he looks up at him, whose eyes are transfixed by Ethan’s hand and cock. His chin is hanging down a little as he pants. Normally Ethan would tease him for something like that, but Ethan’s jaw is locked by the feeling of his own stroking hand. Now that he’s attending to his own arousal, though, it seems to settle back. His eyes don’t leave Grayson’s and eventually he just holds tight at the base, the light skin of his hand a provocative contrast to the blood-dark weight of his cock. He breathes.

“Gotta fuck you. You want it?” The words are a rumble straight out of his chest.

Grayson makes a low, strangled noise, dropping his head between his shoulders. His ass pushes up off the bed slightly, giving Ethan a spine-tingling glimpse of the clear wetness between his cheeks. Consent given. Like there was ever a doubt.

Letting go of his penis, Ethan swipes his right hand through the puddle of liquid in the concave of Grayson’s back. It’s thick and cooling a little, but it’s sticky and perfect as he coats his dick, only touching enough to spread it. He slides back a bit and then leans forward to brace himself on his free hand at Grayson’s side. His messy fingers slip awkwardly as he tries to spread Grayson open, but he digs his fingertips in and finds enough traction to part his cheeks, exposing the shining entrance. It looks so tiny and perfect that Ethan can’t keep from holding Grayson open with his thumb and pinky, three bloody fingers sinking inside without further ado. Watching it clench and shiver is almost too much and he pulls them back out almost straight away, much to Grayson’s disappointment.

The whine Grayson makes fades into a gasp, holding in anticipation as Ethan slips his cockhead between his cheeks. He plays it up and down along the smooth skin until he finds Grayson’s hole, catching the head on the heated rim. It feels so good to be encased by the soft mounds of Grayson’s ass, so close to where he can get inside, that he spends a long few moments just rubbing the tip of his cock back and forth over Grayson’s entrance.

Grayson’s murmuring incoherently into his pillow somewhere, trying to push back and get Ethan inside him, and Ethan can’t hold out any more. His patience has been stretched further than he ever thought it could be. Now he needs to fuck.

With a growl and a short jerk of his hips, the thick head of his penis forces its way through the ring of muscle. Grayson cries out, throwing his head back when Ethan doesn’t pause, cock driving into his body and spreading him wide. The channel of his ass gives reluctantly but inevitably around Ethan’s length and he sobs when Ethan’s in as far as he can go, hips pressed in tight.

He holds himself up over Grayson’s back with his hands planted near Grayson’s shoulders. He doesn’t pause so much for Grayson’s benefit as his own just then, relishing the tight, soft enclosure of Grayson’s body around him, but he knows it gives Grayson a minute to adjust, so he doesn’t fight the urge. His eyes droop almost closed at the way Grayson’s muscles squeeze and relax around him, trying to find a medium that will let him enjoy the experience of taking Ethan in. It happens sooner rather than later; they really have had a lot of practice.

“E,” Grayson begs. Ethan obliges.

Pulling out makes them groan, pleasure sparking in Ethan’s gut as Grayson’s ass clings to his cock on the withdrawal.

“Fuck, Gray,” he mutters, lips brushing Grayson’s back as he finds a rhythm fast enough to feel good, but slow enough that he’ll be able to last longer than a couple of minutes. Grayson’s shoulder blades shift sinuously under his skin, flexing with the movement of their bodies, and Ethan closes his eyes. He mouths at the cut of Grayson’s muscles and the dimples near the top of his spine. Ethan’s cock feels huge inside him and he knows it feels the same to Grayson, who’s taking it so fucking well.

“Fucking love you,” Ethan moans, shoving harder. “I, ah, love that you’re my mate.” 

“Yeah.” Grayson pushes back into the thrusts of Ethan’s hips. He doesn’t have much leverage, laid out the way he is, but it’s amazing to Ethan. Grayson’s so amazing to him. “I love you too, man.” 

The words have Ethan’s body crashing against Grayson’s and he spits a few choice curses into the nape of Grayson’s neck. The blood and come that hasn’t been spilled down Grayson’s sides smears between them up Ethan’s belly as he humps into Grayson’s ass with short ruts. It’s too much and not enough.

Heaving himself off his hands, he pulls out, folds Grayson’s legs up under him and then flips him onto his back. With Grayson’s knees already bent, it’s easy to grab the backs of them and push up farther, Grayson’s hips lifting off the bed as Ethan kneels. Grayson’s shout of surprise is still echoing in the room when Ethan shoves back in.

“Ah, fuck,” Ethan gasps, eyes on Grayson’s face as he fucks into him. Grayson’s looking right back, pupils so wide that Ethan can hardly even see a sliver of the iris, let alone make out the color. Grayson’s full-on panting now, the breath being forced right out of him with the thrusts of Ethan’s member. The sight of Grayson’s pink tongue behind his teeth makes Ethan growl and he slides his hands up over the curves of Grayson’s calves to grab his ankles and wrap them around Ethan’s waist. Grayson instantly cradles Ethan with his thighs and Ethan falls onto his hands and takes Grayson’s mouth in a kiss, never stopping the bruising rhythm of his hips.

Grayson opens up to his mouth without question, meeting the tongue as it pushes into his mouth. Grayson’s unfaltering willingness is disarming him, and even though he could technically hold his breath for a really long freaking time, he has to tear his lips from Grayson’s to suck in some much-needed air. He feels all messed up and he buries his face in Grayson’s neck, the smell of him calming like a cooling salve on a burn.

“Fuck, Gray, love you so fucking much,” Ethan whispers almost deliriously, lifting his head to press his hot cheek to Grayson’s burning temple. His rhythm is starting to falter, cock demanding fast for a minute and then too slow, and he wraps his arms under Grayson’s neck and shoulders, bringing him in close.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, love you too,” Grayson whispers back once again, panting, turning his head to steal kisses from Ethan’s mouth before he can react to them. “So much, Ethan, always.”

Shivers run down Ethan’s neck, making the short hairs stand up, and he hitches forward to steady his knees in the mattress and bring it home.

The sound of their bodies slapping together suddenly registers in his peripheral and he frees his right arm from under Grayson, bringing the hand down to grip the meat of Grayson’s ass. Dropping his head, he looks between their chests, down over flat stomachs to where Grayson’s soft dick lies in the nest of his short pubes. Ethan doesn’t even think about trying to get Grayson hard again; there’s not a chance in hell it would happen and they both know it. Besides, there’s something about the sight that Ethan likes. When Ethan angles Grayson’s hips up a bit further and adds the visual of his cock sinking again and again into his body, it blows his mind a little. He has to look away for a long minute and more than a few shallow thrusts just to get a rein on his orgasm.

“Look at us,” he orders Grayson, wanting to share the image with him—wanting Grayson to see how good they are together. Ethan tightens his grip at the base of Grayson’s neck and bends his head forward, arching up so he can see down to where they meet. His breath hitches when Ethan starts fucking him with long, deep strokes, pulling back until his cock nearly comes out of Grayson, then grinding back in. The ring of Grayson’s ass contracts with his desire and Ethan feels its grip all the way down his length. “You see that? We’re perfect. Never gonna let you go. Not ever.”

Words keep gritting out of Ethan to a never-ending chorus of ‘yes, always, yours, yes,’ and he spirals fast after that. His fangs descend without a conscious decision and his nails sharpen, piercing Grayson’s ass and neck where Ethan holds him. He’s so close and the scent of Grayson’s blood is like a Siren’s call, luring his mouth to the curve of Grayson’s shoulder. He’s licking at and sucking at the skin he’s broken before he quite realizes what he’s doing, gasping as the taste of Grayson coats his tongue. The noise of his own breathing is loud in his ears and his abs are straining with the force of his thrusts.

“Do it, Ethan, bite me, come on,” Grayson moans encouragingly, deliberately pressing his skin into Ethan’s face. “Want your fangs in my neck when you come inside me.”

“Fuck, Grayson, your fucking filthy mouth,” Ethan sputters. He buries his fangs in the popping vein of Grayson’s neck a split second before his body seizes. His mind goes still as he fucks his orgasm out, making a slick mess inside Grayson that he knows Grayson loves; satisfied gasps pass Grayson’s lips at each pulse of Ethan’s cock and Grayson squeezes around him just to draw it out. The sensation is almost too much, but he rocks into it helplessly.

While he comes down, he drinks delicately from Grayson’s neck, gentle suction of his mouth pulling up small gulps of blood. It’s so familiar, so much his essence, and it eases the tension inside him until he halts the uneven rocking of his hips and withdraws his fangs with a sigh. Licking the tiny wounds clean, he watches them heal, leaving behind no sign they’d ever been there.

Grayson’s breathing slowly and when Ethan lifts his head to look at him, there’s a sweet little smile on his mouth. His eyes stay closed for a second longer before opening to meet Ethan’s. Pupils expand and contract minutely to adjust to the light and then Ethan’s watching the battle between red and brown again. Other than that, Grayson looks happy, sated, replete, and Ethan’s heart surges with pride that he gave that to him.

Guilt creeps in when he notices the trembling in Grayson’s limbs. He doesn’t how long they’ve been doing that, but as weak as Grayson’s been since he finished the human, he’s pretty sure Grayson’s only been clinging onto him, keeping from flopping to the bed like a limp noodle, through sheer willpower alone.

Widening his stance on his knees, Ethan murmurs soothing nonsense against the shell of Grayson’s ear as he reaches back and unhooks his brother’s ankles from the small of his back. Carefully, he lowers Grayson’s legs to the bed, humming in understanding when Grayson makes breathy, pained noises as his muscles stretch unhappily out of their tight clench. After Ethan’s done the same with Grayson’s arms, he reluctantly shuffles his hips back to tug his half-hard cock from Grayson’s tender hole. Ethan can’t look at the puffy rim for too long without thoughts of a potential round two bubbling traitorously to the surface of his mind, so for both their sakes, he simply rolls to his side next to him.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Uh-huh,” Grayson agrees with a mumble. He curls into Ethan without hesitation, squishing his face into the gap between Ethan’s head and the pillow. It’s not particularly comfortable for Ethan and probably less so for Grayson, but neither moves away. Arms tangle next and then legs, one of Grayson’s limbs thrown over Ethan’s thigh, which slides up until it’s tucked against his butt.

There’s quiet after that as they breathe in the room and each other. Their blood is singing in their veins; the high of feeding is still tingling through both of them along with the aftermath of the intense orgasms they’ve had. It takes time to come down and neither of them disturbs the silence for a while.

Soft hair tickles Ethan’s nose at some point, so he snuffles and snorts until it gets out of his nostrils. Grayson kicks his ankle with an annoyed grunt, forcing him to retaliate by kneeing Grayson in the ass. He’s pretty sure he didn’t do it that hard, but Grayson oofs loudly and kicks him again.

The situation devolves into a brief tussle, though to be fair it consists mostly of Grayson kicking Ethan in the shin while Ethan tries to stick his fingers into Grayson’s armpit. Ethan backs off when he’s got at least one decent bark of laughter, so Grayson warily drops his guard, settling into Ethan’s chest again.

“So,” Ethan says.

“So,” Grayson returns sarcastically, but there’s a smile in his voice.

“That was different. But fun, right?” Ethan queries. He feels pretty smug about the whole thing, to be honest, lax and sated and feeling good all the way through, but he knows he doesn’t always have the most appropriate responses to some situations (or so Grayson tells him), so he figures he should check.

“Fun is one word for it,” Grayson confirms. “Another’s perverted. Kinky. Deviant. Si—” he rattles off words like a thesaurus until Ethan digs his fingers into his brother’s side, homing in on all the most sensitive spots until Grayson’s tune changes. “—ck! Warped! Agh, ETHAN! Bizarre, freaky, obscene! Dirty, filthyhotfunfun! Oh my God, FUN, okay!” Grayson yelps, conceding as he laughs and curls up around Ethan’s hands, on his back now with Ethan half on top of him.

“You loved it, don’t kid yourself,” Ethan says with confidence, a grin on his face to match Grayson’s as his brother calms back down. With Grayson looking at him like that, so carefree and intimate, he feels pulled in like a magnet, and he kisses Grayson until their mouths are wet and slippery against one another.

Balanced precariously over Grayson, he leans his elbow into the pillow next to his head. The movement shifts his body up the bed and his thigh presses awkwardly into Grayson’s balls and ass. He’s about to apologize and move away when Grayson’s heartbeat skips audibly and Ethan registers wetness on his leg. A quick breath through his nose scents come and blood, and he realizes the moisture is all up the cleft of Grayson’s ass and still leaking from his hole. Ethan smirks and nudges a little more, smearing the fluids.

“Yeah, you loved it.”

Grayson rolls his eyes. He doesn’t deny it.

-

It’s hours later—fresh and clean in spare clothes they leave in the apartment for nights like tonight—when they make their way back into the club through a private door near the bar. Ethan nods to the bouncer that guards it.

The club’s even busier than it had been before they’d left for their meal and they know from experience that the place will hardly empty at all until maybe an hour or two before dawn.

Grayson’s back to his usual self and strength, dead man’s blood and the edge of death fought off by his body like an immune system fights off a cold. They’re not stupid enough to go wandering around a city at anything but their peak unless they have to, so they’d stayed up in the apartment as long as necessary.

It wasn’t like they’d sat around playing pat-a-cake and braiding each other’s hair or anything, but they had spent a lot of the time just tangled up together, talking, or not, as they liked. Ethan had long learned that when you’re immortal, you grow to enjoy periods of doing absolutely nothing or you go kind of loopy. Even a vampire can’t be doing something all the time.

A very enjoyable shower had passed a decent hour, Ethan remembers with a wicked look in his eye. He hadn’t exactly had to beg Grayson to be allowed to eat him out before they got under the water, Grayson a picture as he bent over the side of the tub and muffled squeals into his hands. Ethan can still taste him when he licks his lips.

“Ethan, Grayson!” Tom calls them over to the end of the bar where he’s been switching out old for new liquor bottles. He shakes both of their hands and gives them a big, white smile. His normally blue eyes are tinted to a deep crimson that’s common on nights when he’s working, as he sips from bottles of blood stored specially below the counter.

“Hey, man!” Ethan shouts to be heard over the volume of the music. He technically doesn’t need to—all of them have senses keen enough to hear even if he was talking normally—but it feels natural in the environment. “Thanks for the room tonight!”

“No problem, man, you know it’s always yours if you want it!”

“Appreciate it!” Ethan emphasizes, but the tall vampire just waves him off. He’s always been good to the twins, ever since they first met over a century ago. Ethan could never quite figure out why the guy liked them so much straight away, but there isn’t a deceitful bone in Tom’s body, so he doesn’t dwell on it. He just does what he can to help Tom out when he needs it. It’s uncomplicated and mutually beneficial, two of Ethan’s favorite things.

“Sorry about the mess out back, Tom,” Grayson adds, apologetic but not guilty, leaning over the bar top so no one around them overhears accidently.

“Mess? What mess?” Tom asks, all innocent, wide eyes that don’t fool Ethan for a second. He’s obviously had his cleaners around at some point while Ethan and Grayson were wrapped up in each other.

Grayson laughs, clasping Tom’s hand again in thanks, pulling him forward for a half-hug over the beer mat. Ethan does the same.

“We’re gone, man! Stay outta trouble!”

“Only trouble I get around here is yours, jackass!” Tom scoffs, which is totally untrue, and Ethan says so. Tom just laughs. “Go on, get out of my club before I sic DeShawn on your asses!” The hulking vampire that was guarding the private door looks over at the sound of his name, tossing them a smirk before going back to watching the crowd.

“Fine, we know when we’re not wanted! Come on, Gray,” Ethan chuckles, middle finger in the air as he turns his back on Tom. Grayson shakes his head with a smile and follows him through the undulating crowd.

It’s a little slow going, but it also gives the brothers time to notice a handful of still figures interspersed throughout the club. They’re conspicuous by their total lack of motion amidst the dancing and grinding of the human bodies, and skin prickles at the nape of Ethan’s neck.

Without stopping, he extends the nail of his index finger and slices into the meat of his palm below his thumb. He smells when Grayson does the same. Blood paints a trail on the floor beside their feet and Ethan knows shoes will track it all over the venue by the end of the night.

When they reach the door, he turns around. Half a dozen pairs of eyes glint reflectively under the UV lights and roving lasers, watching Grayson and Ethan watch them. Between a flash of light and the next, Ethan is smirking, and in unconscious unison, he and Grayson reach back to smear their bloody palms on the dark wallpaper either side of the doorway. One by one, the frozen figures turn away, and, satisfied by the affirmation of his and Grayson’s protection over the club, Ethan pushes through the door and walks into the night with his brother.

The long line still trying to get into the club is being handled expertly by the bouncers, who both say a friendly goodnight.

Halfway down the next block, Ethan bumps his shoulder into Grayson’s arm.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starving,” Grayson admits with a faintly sheepish grin. Just like when he’d been human and needed extra food to fill his bottomless stomach, vampire Grayson needs more blood than most to fill his hollow veins. The human they’d shared earlier was like buying a starter at a restaurant and going home without the main.  
“Wanna go find someone? I could go for anything.”

Grayson’s pace picks up with his excitement and Ethan lets him get a little ahead, eyes fixed on his ass and legs shifting beneath denim.

“Yeah,” Ethan agrees, a smile creeping slowly over his face. “Me too.”


	32. Rut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Grayson are both Alphas. They go into rut together.

Ethan could fill a book with all the things identical Alpha twins shouldn’t do, but which he and Grayson ended up doing anyway. When he had popped his first knot he had been humping his bed, thinking about Grayson who, two weeks prior, had popped his. And it had been Grayson on his mind nearly every knot since. His first rut had hit the day after Grayson’s. They had been alone in an apartment in Los Angeles, a time when they had been on tour three months prior and had recently acquired a warehouse to film YouTube videos in. They had only been seventeen—way too young to be rutting already—but just the smell of Grayson experiencing his pre-mature rut in the bed next to his had been enough to pump the requisite chemicals through his blood. Ethan still remembered that week with glee. That was the first time he had ever been knotted. The first time for a lot of things, actually.  
Somehow, even after all these years, they were still finding new firsts.  
“Hurry up, Gray,” he panted. “My turn, my turn.” He raised his ass as high as he could, clenching hard to try and squeeze the knot out of Grayson faster. “Knot me, bro,” he demanded. Grayson merely grunted, well beyond words. His hands in Ethan’s hair were rough. It was the third day of their rut but even though they both felt used and sore, it was impossible to ignore the demand for more and harder and mine. The stink of mating alphas was so thick Ethan could taste it at the back of his throat.  
Grayson pushed Ethan’s head into the mattress and growled, hips thrusting. The wet slap of their bodies meeting was obscene; a testament to just how much fucking they’d already achieved.   
The thought was enough to make him writhe and moan, legs spreading even further. Grayson snarled a warning and slapped his ass hard, holding his hip in place when this only served to make Ethan wriggle more.  
“Come on,” Ethan goaded, voice muffled by the mattress. His heavy cock swung with every plunge of Grayson’s. His balls were somehow still swollen and aching, despite the fact that he’d deposited just as much seed in Grayson as Grayson had in him. They were both soaked in it. Dripping down their thighs and into the bedsheets. He could hear the squelch of it with every thrust.  
But he still wanted more.  
“Give it to me,” he demanded. “Fill me up. Wanna feel you, come on, do it, do it. Fill me with your pups, Gray.”  
Grayson threw himself over Ethan’s back and Ethan stretched his head to the side so his teeth could find the bite mark. Grayson latched on and Ethan groaned as he felt the first telltale swell of his knot.   
“Yes,” he hissed, squeezing hard. He clutched the sheets to stop himself from touching himself, because as much as he loved getting himself off he loved getting off on Grayson even more.

“Knot me,” he chanted. “Knot me, knot me, knot me, knot m—yes!”  
Ever obedient, Grayson’s member did as it was told and Ethan felt the swell of pressure stretching his already stretched rim. Grayson shouted around his mouthful of Ethan’s flesh and he shoved, popping inside just in time for the knot to fully expand. He bit harder until Ethan swore he could feel the teeth inside him and his own orgasm was ripped out of him by a feedback loop of pleasure-pain-pleasure-pain. Grayson continued thrusting, jerking Ethan’s hips back and forth as he did. Each additional tug on his hole forced another gush of seed out of them both until his insides were almost as ruined as the sheets.  
The scent of sated alpha drenched them both, and they panted as they came down from their respective highs. Grayson eased his teeth free and licked the bite on Ethan’s neck. It wasn’t a mating mark—one of them would have to be omega for that to work—but it was the only thing either of them had ever wanted. Besides, they remarked each other so often that the bite was practically permanent, anyway.  
“E,” Grayson purred, stroking Ethan’s sides, always a little bit sweet after he’d knotted. Ethan didn’t like being treated like an omega, but he tolerated it if he had a dick in his ass and if that dick happened to be Grayson’s.  
“Mmmh,” he hummed.  
They rolled onto their sides in non-verbal agreement, Ethan groaning as the movement tugged at his sensitive rim. Every jostle was like a thousand tiny orgasms firing off at once. He patted his stomach tenderly, convinced he could feel Grayson inside him. Grayson slung an arm over his waist and grinned as Ethan kept wiggling, trying to get more of the tiny-orgasms.  
“Twenty minutes,” Grayson said. He trailed fingers along Ethan’s spine.   
Ethan didn’t bother to laugh at that. They both knew that was a lie. He tugged a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary and they both groaned. Grayson’s knot shifted, opening Ethan up slightly before his ass closed back around it, locking them tight again.  
“That’s so fucking hot,” Grayson groaned.  
Ethan turned to look over his shoulder at Grayson and raised his eyebrow.  
“Oh no,” Grayson said, blinking back to reality through the haze of post-orgasmic pleasure. “I know that look. Whatever you’re thinking it’s a bad idea.”  
“All my bad ideas are good.”  
Grayson grumbled something about poor judgment and risk management. “Okay then,” he finally said. “What?”  
“Grab the headrail.”  
Grayson looked up and did as he was told. Ethan hooked a hand under the bottom of the mattress until he could get a grip on the bed frame. “Ready?” he asked.  
“For what?”  
“Just hold on!”  
Carefully, he used his hold to pull himself forward. The result was instant. The internal pressure from Grayson’s knot lodged up tight against his rim from the inside. He groaned loudly, almost drowning out Grayson’s yell.  
“Ethan!”  
“Don’t let go,” Ethan begged, and then he pulled himself a little further forward.  
Holy fuck.  
His hole widened slightly to accommodate the bulge of his knot. Grayson shouted a string of curse words and his hips flinched reflexively into Ethan’s, wedging his knot back into place. Seemingly unintentionally he thrust into Ethan a half dozen times, his hips jerking in short sharp jabs as though he couldn’t help himself from fucking Ethan despite the fact that they were locked together and every thrust tugged Ethan back and forth over the mattress an inch.  
“Do that again,” Grayson gasped once he’d regained control.  
Ethan had every intention of doing that again. He got a better grip on the bedframe and this time yanked hard, getting his knot almost to the widest point. After three days of non-stop sex his ass was well-used but opening wide enough for his knot was still more than he’d ever done. It sizzled delicious pain up his spine and from Grayson’s yelp he must have almost broken a nose by throwing his head back. Ethan had to reach his other hand down to stroke himself quickly, just to take the edge off, because he didn’t remember ever being this hard in his whole damn life.  
“Oh my God,” Grayson was babbling. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so fucking loose, man. You should see yourself right now. Do you have any idea? Do you fucking even? Bro. I can’t. I can’t.”  
Ethan eased himself back into Grayson’s lap, feeling himself close back around Grayson’s knot like his body was welcoming Grayson home.  
Oh wow, that was sappy.  
But now was not the time to get sappy.  
“I’m gonna do it,” he panted.  
“You’re gonna do it,” Grayson parroted back, sounding awed. He rubbed his nose on the back of Ethan’s neck, breathing harshly. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much you know that right? What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”  
Ethan grinned, readjusted his grip, and began to pull.  
This time, when he reached the widest point of his knot, he didn’t relax back into it. He kept pulling. He opened the tiniest fraction more and it was a combination of pain-laced pleasure that was so perfect it must have been designed specifically for him. He desperately wanted to reach back and feel himself. From the sounds Grayson was making it had to be obscene back there. He wanted to feel the stretch of his hole. He wanted to feel the rigid heat of Grayson’s knot while it was here: both inside and outside him.  
He sank back a fraction of an inch, fucking himself just barely on the huge expanse of his knot. Grayson sobbed, and from the telltale lush of warmth he guessed he’d squeezed a half-orgasm out of him even while they were still knotted.  
Fuck, he wasn’t far off himself. He’d never been this open in his life.  
He pulled again, and his body stretched eagerly, already desperate for this new way for Grayson to own him. Grayson made a wrecked sound behind him and Ethan couldn’t do much more than copy it, turning it into something that could be mistaken for Grayson’s name. He kept tugging.  
“E-Ethan!” Grayson howled, and with an honest-to-God pop of extraordinarily orgasmic proportions his knot slipped free. Ethan wrapped a frantic hand around his cock, jerking once, twice, before coming so hard he almost blacked out. His hole clenched uselessly, so fucking loose and sloppy that it didn’t have a chance in hell of closing up any time soon.  
He rolled onto his other side in time to watch Grayson come down from what was obviously his own rather unplanned orgasm.  
“You haven’t come while still knotted in years,” Ethan accused. He palmed the swollen base of his member with his messy hand, bringing one last blurt out.   
Grayson appeared to be beyond sentences.  
“E,” he managed. “E, I. Ethan. That was. Fuck.”  
Ethan grinned and reached back to finger himself, fitting three fingers in easily. Disgusting, he thought with an excited shiver.  
Grayson rolled onto his belly and tried to get his knees beneath him. “My turn,” he said, still fighting for breath.  
Ethan grinned and took fingers out of his own ass to shove them into him, feeling how much mess he’d already left in there. He jacked himself one-handed as he did. 

Ethan smiled as he lined up, pressing a kiss into Grayson’s nape.


	33. Strained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Grayson are both Alphas. They have a pretty good system going until they are both hit with “sudden rut” syndrome, leaving them both scarred and their relationship tested.   
> This verse is not related to “Rut.” This oneshot stands on its own.

Here they were two alphas, living together, running a lucrative business, without even any Omega mates. In extremely rare cases, Alphas will share a mate. But the twins didn’t even have that.   
Some people assumed that it was because they were twins, but even twin Alphas didn’t tend to get along with each other. Once Alphas hit puberty, no matter how close or tight knit they were when they were kids, Alpha siblings had the tendency to go their separate ways, their Alpha instincts indicating that the sibling that they once loved dearly was now a threat or competition.   
That’s why on YouTube, all of the twins were either Omegas, like the Merrell Twins or Betas, like the Stokes. No Alpha twins. Well, everyone except the Dolan Twins. They were the exception that made the rule.   
People sometimes asked them how they hadn’t killed each other yet.   
For instance, this question came up not two years ago, at a reward ceremony. It was a YouTube type thing where YouTubers, big and small, put on fake smiles and fake personalities and expensive dress to parade around for three odd hours and take videos for Snapchat and pictures for Instagram. The question had hit Grayson like a rock to the head, left him smiling dumbly at the camera, the interviewer’s dark brown eyes, her full lips. She had said it as a kind of joke, trying to make small talk before the show. Ethan angled his body towards Grayson, subtly, and didn’t miss a beat.   
“You know, we’re just close. It doesn’t really matter if we’re Alphas or not.”   
Which, in a huge way, was true.   
Grayson had agreed, giving a confident nod and purposefully changed the subject, smoothly complimenting her dress.   
The interviewer gave a strained smile. There had to be some way that the brothers got along without snapping each other’s heads off. Maybe it was the prospect of money (their YouTube channel did so well because, in part, people loved to fantasize about two attractive Alphas) or fame that kept them together. Or maybe they were on some Alpha suppressant medication, the kind some psychiatric hospitals used to control mentally unstable, aggressive Alphas.   
The story they told was they just synchronised their ruts; all it took was a calendar and some forward planning, and when the time came, whichever brother was about to hit their cycle just took off for a few days or a week and then came back once it was done.  
It wasn’t entirely true, though; the part about the calendar, and the planning, that was true. It hung on the refrigerator, with Ethan’s dates in red and Grayson’s in blue, so they knew when each other’s ruts were going to hit.  
But their method of dealing, that didn’t involve either one of them packing a bag for a few days and booking a hotel somewhere on the other side of L.A. to ride it out.  
The last time had been Ethan, and Grayson had stripped and presented on the bed, offering himself up and spent most of that week getting fucked through the mattress, while his brother snarled his name and knotted him so hard Grayson nearly bit through his lip.  
It hurt, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fucking good.  
And when Grayson’s turn came around, Ethan lay down and spread his legs, and stayed very still as Grayson sniffed and licked and touched, and then turned his neck enough so Grayson had a good patch to lock on to, and in a spot that Ethan knew would be covered by whatever shirt he wore.  
It worked. Nobody outside of a handful of employees (and they had only found out by accident and were sworn not to tell) would get it, and not just because they were twins. The whole alpha fucking alpha thing was just as taboo as being related, and Ethan wasn’t sure what it said about him and Grayson than neither of them cared.  
And it was better than dragging some poor omega into their lives, or one of them tearing the other up when they hit their rut.  
Just a little coordination, that was all it took, and it’d never failed them yet.  
-  
“What do you think?”  
Grayson glanced at the tattoo marred into his back, twisting around to see his back in the mirror above the bathroom sink for what felt like the hundredth time today.   
He had been acting weird all morning and even into the early afternoon.   
Ethan was climbing out of the bath, trying to suppress a sigh of annoyance, and grabbed a towel and started drying off.  
He wasn’t sure if Grayson was asking him because he regretted getting the tat or just wanted his approval.   
“It looks great, bro. You know that. Stop looking at it.”   
It was about three inches long, right in the center below the rectangular tattoo of the lion scene. It was a single dove, flying through the air.   
Grayson grabbed his own towel and ran it over his chest. “I know, man. It just hurt more than usual.”   
He yelped as Ethan whipped a corner of the towel across his ass.  
Grayson turned to glare at him and started when he saw the look of horror on Ethan’s face.  
“What, what is it?”  
“You really need a haircut.”  
Looking back, Grayson smiled. Yeah, he really did.   
“You wanna cut it for me?”   
“Very funny.”   
There was another whip against his ass and Grayson felt a low throb of arousal begin to bubble up; maybe Ethan knew what he was doing. Maybe not. Maybe Ethan wasn’t doing anything and the reason the tattoo felt so bad was because he was about to enter his rut again, off schedule. But when Grayson lifted his eyes to look in the mirror at Ethan behind him, Ethan’s smirk widened.   
Then suddenly Ethan bolted from the bathroom, butt naked and laughing his damn head off.   
There was a sudden urge in Grayson to do what just came naturally to an Alpha. It was to chase.   
So he did.  
\--  
Ethan slammed the door to his bedroom shut behind him, and took a deep breath, growling a little at the scent that filled his lungs.  
It was pure Alpha, Grayson, and it riled him. Ethan wasn’t sure if it was because he was going into rut prematurely (which had happened a handful of times in their lives) or if Grayson was. That would explain why Grayson had acted all jittery and irritated while getting tattooed this morning, like he didn’t want to be touched, like his skin was burning.   
But this…this felt different. It felt…wrong.   
Ethan pressed himself to the wall, listening as he heard the rapid footfalls of Grayson chasing after him. Ethan licked his lips; he could hear Grayson’s breathing, his rapid heartbeat, the sound of his hand against the doorknob, turning.   
“E?”   
The voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, almost feral.   
The door was pushed open cautiously, and he could tell his brother was paused on the other side of it, probably trying to listen, to work out if he was smelling Ethan or just the residual of the room.  
Ethan didn’t give him a chance to work it out. He rammed his shoulder into the door, slamming it right into Grayson, catching him between it and the jamb.  
Grayson grunted, surprised, but Ethan knew he couldn’t give him even an inch, not if Grayson had the same idea he did right then.  
He threw his weight against the door, pinning Grayson behind it, and pushed sharply at his throat. He wasn’t trying to hurt him, just trying to keep Grayson at bay so he could knock some sense into him.   
Holding the door at the same time made the angle awkward and stole some of the strength he’d otherwise have put into it, so all it seemed to do was anger Grayson and that gave his brother strength.  
He pushed back, and that was enough to set Ethan off balance; he staggered back, and Grayson followed, and, in a matter of seconds, was pushed up onto his bed, landing in the disheveled white sheets.   
Grayson was on top of him, scratching and biting, fingernails running against his ribs, his mouth nibbling harshly on the side of his exposed throat, one leg already between Ethan’s and pressing down hard on his member.  
The pain was sharp enough to bring Ethan around, and hell if Grayson thought this was going to go his way. He pushed back, but Grayson had the weight advantage, and he was on top, still snarling and clawing, his nails catching on the bed sheets on either side of his body like some kind of savage.  
Ethan wasn’t about to do the same. Too damn bad if his brother was letting his hind brain do his thinking. His loss.  
Grayson had always had worse control issues than Ethan. When Grayson was in rut, he went a little feral, halfway out of his mind, especially if Ethan resisted his advances. It was kind of ironic. Ethan was usually the one who took control in their day-to-day lives. Usually, Grayson was the nice one, the calm one, the polite one, despite his occasional bouts of anger issues that were usually due to stress. He let Ethan take control in most areas of their business, adding his two cents when it was needed. Ethan was usually the passive aggressive one, or sometimes even downright snarky, like some middle-aged Karen.   
But this? This was something else. If Ethan resisted, Grayson would let up, realizing Ethan didn’t want it. But now, he couldn’t seem to tell. Didn’t seem to care, actually.   
Ethan had always taken pride in his sense of control whenever he was in rut, even if he was flooded with Alpha hormones. Secretly, of course. But he could feel himself being swayed and stunned, he realized he was quickly going into rut underneath Grayson. He could feel it twisting in his lower stomach, a wild heat.   
“Get off, Gray.”   
Ethan reached up and grabbed hold of Grayson’s ears, and twisted, hard. It got him the desired result; Grayson gasped and bucked away, which just hurt worse, and he scrambled back, tearing free of Ethan’s grip.  
Ethan didn’t let up though. He kicked out, catching Grayson right in the balls, and his brother toppled onto his side, wheezing.   
“Fuck, Gray. Calm down!”   
Ethan was on him in an instant, flipping him off and punching him hard in the kidneys before twisting his right arm so hard up his back he could feel the joint lock up tight on him.  
“You done?”  
Grayson was still writhing under him, even though Ethan knew it had to be hurting him badly enough that he should have been quitting.  
But quitting would lead to only one thing, and Ethan knew Grayson wasn’t ready to submit and take it anymore than he was himself.  
“Calm down, bro. You’re in rut.”   
Grayson managed to twist his head around to glare at his brother.  
“You think,” he said, and then he was pushing back into Ethan’s hold, and that had to be excruciating but it still upset Ethan’s balance enough to let Grayson twist back, right and down, countering the pressure Ethan was inflicting.  
He swung his other elbow back, a blow that would have knocked Ethan cold had it landed, but Ethan turned into it, tucked his head down so that all Grayson got was his shoulder.  
Even so, it hurt, but Ethan snarled and slammed his hand into Grayson’s shoulder. It jarred him, knuckle to neck, and he knew he’d pay for it worse later, but for now it had the desired effect, and Grayson collapsed flat on the bed.  
The fight wasn’t fully out of him, but it was out of him enough to let Ethan grab one handed for a pillow, shake it loose of the case and then use that to bind Grayson’s wrists behind his back.  
He sat back, resting his weight on Grayson’s legs, and let his breathing settle. Grayson was still panting beneath him, growling lowly, and when Ethan rested a hand on his back, he snarled ferally and tried to jerk away.  
It got him nowhere, and Ethan leaned down to lick up his brother’s spine, instantly drunk on the salt sharp sweat of Grayson’s skin.  
His scent was different now; it still had that rich tone that was all Grayson, but it wasn’t like Ethan remembered from the last time Ethan had been in rut.   
Then the hint of submission had been fake, but enough.  
Grayson was all aggression now. All Alpha.   
That’s the last thing that Ethan thought before he himself fell completely into the darkness of his own, mind-shattering rut.   
\---  
Grayson was the one who came to, who came out of it first, and there were those almost magical few moments where his head was fuzzy enough from the aftereffects of whatever had happened, though a little voice in his brain was screaming something like sudden rut and ohfuck.   
And then his head cleared, and he was immediately aware of everything.  
Ethan was lying on top of him, passed out, his weight spread crosswise over the middle of Grayson’s body, pressing down on his wrists. Even then, Grayson could feel fabric wrapped tight around him, but if he could shift Ethan, or even rouse him…  
If it was safe to rouse him.  
Sudden ruts were exceptionally rare, but they happened. It left the Alpha stripped of any sense of control. Usually, the Alpha had an inclination they would be off the cycle, a few hours leading up to it. They’d feel hot and irritable.   
Grayson had no idea if Ethan would still be in rut. Ethan usually had better control than he did, though. But that was with usual, timed ruts. Not ones like these. And they especially didn’t go into rut at the same time.   
Likely Ethan would come around like he had himself, so it was worth the risk. He shifted, pushing up with his weight as hard as he could, even rocking side to side in the hope of either dislodging Ethan or waking him up.  
It took a couple of minutes before Ethan groaned and shifted; he was going through the same initial confusion as Grayson, and he braced one hand on Grayson to push himself upright without even seeming to realize what he was doing.  
“E,” Grayson said. “Ethan, come on. Come out of it, okay? Get off me.”  
Ethan blinked.   
“Ethan.”  
“What, what, I’m up….Gray?”  
“Yeah, it’s me, for…”. He closed his eyes, tried to remember that the same thing that had affected Ethan had affected him, and things could so easily have been switched around.  
He could be the one waking up with Ethan tied up and helpless beneath him.  
“Just get off of me, huh?”  
He could almost tell when Ethan snapped to because he went from swaying around, unbalanced, to suddenly going very still.  
His voice, when he spoke, was small and broken.  
“Fuck, Gray, I...Fuck.”  
He was immediately grappling with whatever was tied around Grayson’s wrists, ripping it away and tossing it, and then leaning back to let Grayson sit up.  
That took some time and effort; every inch of him felt scraped raw, and his head was still reeling at what had just happened.  
But when he turned around, it was to see Ethan couldn’t look at him, and Grayson…  
Somewhere in him, had to be, were the words to fix this, he was sure, but right then he couldn’t even start to look for them.  
All Grayson could manage, voice barely level was to ask, “Are you alright?”  
Even then it sounded forced, though it truly wasn’t. Grayson remembered getting the upper hand once or twice, and he had hurt him. He might have even hurt him when he blacked out.   
They’d both been in full rut, and maybe...maybe this was why people said alphas shouldn’t fuck other alphas.   
Ethan made a sound that was almost like a chuckle, if bitter and made of broken glass. “I’m okay,” he said.  
Then he clambered off the bed, lingered only long enough to grab some clothes from his dresser, and he was gone.  
-  
There wasn’t much to say, it seemed, over the next few days.  
Ethan avoided him as much as possible without downright leaving the house, something Grayson was glad of. He stayed in his room and just edited videos.   
He’d been unable to sleep a full night, and some nights not at all, because he kept imagining Ethan sneaking out for the last time, or waking up to find Ethan standing over him, hard and caring not a shit if Grayson wanted to present for him or not.  
He also couldn’t tell which seemed worse, which was probably another good indicator of just how fucked in the head he was, they were, this whole situation.  
It didn’t help that Ethan’s approach to dealing with it seemed to be pretending it never happened and barely saying two words to Grayson on any subject. Ethan was a master at the silent treatment.   
It wasn’t like they could see a doctor about it-then that would give their relationship away. Grayson could also tell Ethan was afraid that his sudden rut would happen again and unlike Grayson, Ethan had not gotten any physical indication that it would happen until it was on him. That is, he couldn’t lock himself up beforehand to keep from going after Grayson.   
Whenever Grayson tried to broach it, Ethan would suddenly have someplace else to be, and that continued until maybe ten days later, when Grayson was ready to scream and throw his brother down and demand they talk about it, when Ethan suddenly dumped his bag in front of him on the table.  
It was already packed.  
Grayson looked up at him, a little fearful. Maybe Ethan had found a solution after all. These past few days, he’d been worried his brother was going to leave, but it looked like Ethan had a different idea.  
Before he could say anything, Ethan was pulling on his jacket.  
When Grayson hadn’t moved by the time he was done, Ethan glared down at him a little impatiently.  
“What’s up,” he said. “You wanna see a doctor that won’t expose us?”   
“Yeah.”   
“And where do you think we’ll find them?”   
“San Francisco.”   
\---  
The trip had taken a day and they had found out a few things. It turned out that A.) Sudden runts were rare and could only happen once in an Alpha’s lifetime, tops. B.) Even the most progressive doctors frowned upon Alpha/Alpha relationships, especially relations between twins.   
When they got home, Ethan immediately disappeared back into his room, and Grayson didn’t try to stop him. He felt a sense of relief, knowing that neither one of them would lose control again and take the other unwillingly.   
But Ethan wasn’t talking. He hadn’t said a single word on the ride back and it was really starting to piss Grayson off.   
Maybe this was it: their lives from now on, not speaking, barely even interacting unless they absolutely had to.  
And for what? What the hell did Ethan hope to get out of this?  
But Grayson knew that answer. Ethan…. he didn’t do well with being wrong, with fucking something up, and this…. It wasn’t that straightforward, even if it kind of was.  
Yes, Ethan had been under some kind of rare rut, just like he had himself, and yes, this could so easily have gone the other way, if Ethan hadn’t overpowered him.   
But he did and it hadn’t, and Grayson was tired of being made to feel like he was being punished somehow.  
He couldn’t live like this, so maybe it was time to make Ethan talk to him or accept maybe they couldn’t do this anymore.   
He was just getting to his feet when Ethan came back into the living room. He’d showered and changed and had his head down, running a hand through his hair. Grayson was at the table, looking over a stack of invoices.   
“So,” Ethan said, and he pulled out a chair and sat down in it.  
Grayson hesitated, half out of his chair, but then something told him that this was really important. He could feel the emotional turmoil flowing off Ethan in waves; it was almost overwhelming. Grayson licked his lips and settled back down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his elbows against the table.   
“I fucked up,” Ethan said. “I...I should have realized sooner things weren’t right, bro. I knew you were feelin’ off. I was too. I should have listened to you and I didn’t and…”  
He wanted to look away, Grayson could see that, but he didn’t. Even with tears building, even if he was about to burst into tears, he didn’t look away.  
“I raped you,” he said. “And I can never fix that, man. I can never make it up to you or earn your forgiveness.”  
Grayson sat there, more than a little stunned. He’d given up, he could admit it, on Ethan being able to vocalize anything to do with what happened.  
And yes, in his head, he wanted to hear Ethan say it. What happened. Not because he blamed Ethan...yes, he’d done it, Ethan had forced him, but they’d both been out of control. It was they’d both been roofied by nature’s flawed logic, a fucked-up anomaly.   
They’d both been raped, because Grayson knew for a fact that Ethan would never, never have done anything like that to him without being under some outside influence.  
But it had still happened. And they were still struggling to find a way to push forward, to get through.  
Ethan had gone silent, and Grayson figured this was his cue, but for the life of him…  
He didn’t know what to say to make it better, didn’t know why he felt somehow obligated to do so when that wasn’t on him, but at the same time…  
This wasn’t just black and white.  
He stood up, and went around the table to where Ethan sat and hauled him out of the chair.  
Ethan went, no fight left in him, and then it was as if Grayson was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Grayson held on, maybe too tight, maybe crushing him a little, but then Ethan was hugging him back with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a long time.  
This was not going to ruin them.  
And it didn’t. It was maybe a long time before either of them could touch the other again, in any form of intimacy, but like every other battle in their lives, they pushed through. Healing.   
And, though scarred, thrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is really appreciated. It fuels the fire of creativity. I love you all so much and thank you for reading.


End file.
